Lineage
by julian-juliana
Summary: Following the unexpected death of their son, Lucius and Narcissa embark on an investigation after coming across a series of questionable bank statements belonging to Draco. The investigation will lead the Malfoys thousands of miles away from home and will help them receive closure from losing their only child.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Lineage**

Rating: T+ (I know some people put M to be safe, but I'm not gonna.) I think if you are old enough to know where babies come from and are allowed to watch PG-13 American films, you're in the clear.

Summary: Following the unexpected death of their son, Lucius and Narcissa embark on an investigation after coming across a series of questionable bank statements belonging to Draco. The investigation will lead the Malfoys thousands of miles away from home and will help them receive closure from losing their only child.

**Warning**: Major Character Death, swearing, references to sex, references to drugs and drug use.

**Author's Note**: I know I still have another fic going, but I needed another baby to make things interesting for my part mostly. Taking care of one fic that is growing up really well is like raising a child who never has to go to the bathroom, eat, plays messily, and only likes to sleep. Kinda boring.

I'm still working on **The Road of Forgivenss** and would have posted that instead, but I'm in the middle of revising **Remember the Hate**, its sister, so...yeah. Lineage is different just like all my other fics I write. It's full of angst, tragedy, and missed chances. Yes, the feel is quite a bit different than **The Art of Distracting**.

Anyway, here is Chapter 1 and I hope it's good. R&R and let me know.

* * *

Exhaling softly and looking down at the tea cup placed perfectly on the saucer, Narcissa Malfoy gingerly looped her fingers around the steaming beverage and brought it to her lips. The raspberry and lemon flavor was calming and everything she wanted in a tea that particular morning. However, it was not what she needed in the slightest.

The liquid in the cup trembled due to her shaking hands, and she put the tea back on her saucer and let her forearms rest beside it, framing her drink. She scoured the room with troubled, blue eyes and tried to remember the last time she took her late morning tea in the Dining Room.

Never, she recalled. She usually drank her tea in one of the tea rooms, her favorite being the Glass Room where all the walls were pristinely washed windows overlooking the garden. But it was nearly November, and Narcissa had not felt like informing the Garden Keep to cast a Weather Resistant Charm on the property this year.

She sipped at her tea once more and then put the half-empty cup back, calling for her House-elf, "Mippy!"

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy?" The elf bowed deeply in submission after appearing.

"I'm done with my tea."

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy, Mippy shall tidy up."

Narcissa stepped away from the table feeling weighed down by the inquiring glares and glances of the portraits encasing her. Ignoring them, she exited the Dining Room and walked the empty hallways of the Manor, only the preserving of artificial life decorating the walls. Many of the portrait occupants whispered as she passed them. Muttered words muffled from her husband's ancestors flung about her but only one sentence reached her ears clearly.

"_She should have had two."_

Her heels clicked on the cold, hard surface of the wooden flooring leading to her husband's office, her shoes causing echoes to bounce off the walls and alert to any who listened, the Mistress of Malfoy Manor was near.

Seeing the double doors separating her from her husband, Narcissa remembered a time when she had been young and timid enough to not feel comfortable when entering Lucius' office without permission or a knock. Those times were gone, having been swept away by the cruel and persistent ticking of the clock. She gripped both door knobs and pushed them open to see her husband frowning over scrolls of parchment. As she walked closer to his desk where he sat, he acted as if he had not noticed her entering.

She waved her wand and moved a chair adjacently from her husband and sat down slowly.

Opening her mouth, she immediately closed it, unsure how to tell him what was on her mind. Nevertheless, she pressed forward. "I saw the Healer this morning."

Her husband's frown was still in place, his expression giving no insight as to what he may or may not be thinking. Finally after more than thirty seconds of excruciating silence, Lucius' drawled, "And?"

Hurriedly, Narcissa fumbled over her words. "She said it was nearly impossible, and if it were, a pregnancy would be deathly on my body. She informed be that I'm officially passed any hopeful stage of fertility. Lucius, Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Clicking his teeth in response, she gazed upon her wringing hands, eyeing her wedding ring wistfully and possessively. Letting a jagged breath escaped her, she voiced her thoughts. "I understand what this means."

For the first time since she entered the office, Lucius looked at her, his face showing he had no idea what she was speaking about.

"Hmm?"

Upset he was making her spell out the situation for him, she scoffed and said, "I _know,_ Dear Husband, that you will want to acquire another wife."

"I can barely handle one, Darling. Why would I want another one?"

"Because." Narcissa blinked in befuddlement. "I can't give you a child. You haven't an heir."

Lucius leaned back into his chair and pursed his lips like was amused. She was unsure as to what he found funny, but this was not a joking matter.

"So you think I'll rid you for a ripe and buxom, rounded-hip woman? I dare say, never will I do such a thing. Darling, we have been married for nearly thirty-two years, and for the next thirty-two, we shall remain so."

Heart leaping towards the back of her throat, Narcissa fumbled out with a blush, "But what about your heir?"

Sorrow replaced the playful twinkle in her husband's eyes, the spark dying like a put-out flame, and his loving smirk he only saved for her was gone, as well.

"Let us not worry of such things, My Sweet. It is Halloween, a time of celebration. We shall save the dreariness for another day."

Narcissa nodded in response, wondering how she was going to pretend how utterly downtrodden and sullen she was feeling. Lucius was better at hiding his emotions, and she thought at a particular point in her life, she had been excellent, too. Recent events had changed her, however, and so easily tears came and progressed into long sobbing fits.

"How about a small jaunt to Diagon Ally tonight? We've decided not throw a Halloween Ball this year, so let us be the ones to go out and enjoy ourselves. Diagon Ally is always pleasant on Halloween night."

Fingers feeling achy and loose from being consistently wrung, she wondered if maybe a bone or two had cracked at her husband's suggestion. "I don't know, Lucius. There will be children there. You understand it's hard for me."

"I know." Lucius smiled tiredly. "I know, but you cannot cut yourself off from the world forever. It's unhealthy, and if he were here-"

"But he's not here," Narcissa cut in sharply. "He's not here, and he should be."

Lucius picked up his quill and dabbed the tip into some ink, returning his gaze to the parchment before him on his desk.

"We will be leaving at six o' clock sharp, and I expect you to be ready," he said calmly.

Glowering with a huff, she folded her arms protectively over her ribs. "I don't like being told what to do, Lucius. If I want to stay home tonight, I will."

Quill stopping with a wrinkled forehead, Lucius tapped the tip of the writing utensil on the parchment as if he were figuring out an equation of sort. Narcissa watched as he once again leaned back into his chair, stroking his chin.

"What's wrong?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Hmm?" Lucius stared at his wife with raised eyebrows. "Oh, it's probably nothing, but I've been ruffling through Draco's bank statements these past few days."

"Are they not adding up correctly?"

"No, no. They are, but I'm finding some things odd."

"Like what?" Narcissa went over to her husband's side and peered over his shoulder. He splayed out some other scrolls next to the one he was writing on and pointed to a date on each one of them.

"These bank statements are a couple of years old," she said with a frown. "Why are you looking at Draco's statement's from so long ago?"

"Because I've already gone through the one's before, and there all stating the same thing," Lucius pointed out and set his quill down with weariness.

"Which is?" Narcissa urged for him to continue.

He rubbed his chin once more and narrowed his eyes. "Like I stated earlier, it's most likely nothing but does peak my curiosity. On the first of every month, fifteen hundred galleons are automatically withdrawn from Draco's account."

"That's…odd. Does it explain why or where or anything?"

"No, but I will set up a private meeting with Draco's personal accountant as soon as possible. Whatever it is that Draco had committed himself financially to needs to be seized. In fact, all of his accounts need to be cancelled. I'll Floo to Mr. Berry's office this very moment."

"Would you like me to come?" asked Narcissa, smoothing the skirt of her robe.

"Are you sure you want to? Are you feeling up to it?"

Narcissa hesitantly nodded, and Lucius guided her to the fireplace.

* * *

"You are unaware of where the money is going?" asked Lucius to Mr. Berry, a dastardly looking goblin with sharp, stained teeth.

"Oh, I know where it's going." Mr. Berry nodded confidently and pushed a square of parchment towards the husband and wife across his desk. He pointed to a series of numbers with a wide grin. "It's going there."

Lucius thinned his lips in impatience. "And what is that?"

"Well, Sir, it's an account number."

"An account number," stated Narcissa like she was trying to clarify as to what she heard. "Whose account?"

Mr. Berry scrunched his brow and sucked in his lips like he was severely contemplating his reply. "Here's the trouble with that question…I don't know. When your son came to me with this number, he didn't provide any other information."

"Mr. Berry, please…" Lucius smiled politely.

"Can we at least stop the automatic withdrawals?" Narcissa inquired. "Obviously, what Draco was paying for, he no longer needs to."

The accountant clasped his small, grubby hands together and said, "Yes we could do that, but maybe…you might want to investigate as to where the money is going first."

"How can I?" muttered Lucius. "You've given me nothing to investigate but a number to which means nothing to me.

Mr. Berry clucked his tongue and bared his teeth in an uncomely smile. "I will let you in on a little secret, Mr. Malfoy, and I hope I have your _trust_. Despite your son's death, it is still illegal for me to provide discreet information, especially when this matter concerns another account."

"You have our utmost respect and _trust_, Mr. Berry, as well as our confidence," Narcissa gently spoke.

"Good. So in banking, you may know this, Lucius, each country has their own set of numbers: nine-zero-five, which means the United States. The next three numbers depends on the area or district: two-three-five is the next set of numbers. These numbers are code for Massachusetts. The next three numbers say which bank the account lies in: seven-two-four means Xelcon. There is only one Xelcon bank in all of Massachusetts. Salem is where the money is going. Unfortunately, the rest of the numbers attached to the account are meaningless and will in no way help you in identifying the holder."

"But it's a start." Lucius stroked his chin pensively.

"Lucius," Narcissa whispered to him. "I don't think it really matters who the holder of the account is. Fifteen hundred galleons are not worth a curiosity check. You said it was nothing, and I think so, too. Thinking about it, I would not be perturbed in the slightest to find that Draco was investing in a business or a Quidditch team and was tied up in a sort of contract."

"We'll never know until we know, Cissa. This was obviously important to our son, and _I_ want to know. If it's a business, then perhaps I would want to put in my share. If it's a superb Quidditch team, perhaps they need funds. Our son had a spectacular eye for the best, Darling, and there is no reason why, what was once his, cannot be mine. He was my boy."

Narcissa's throat swelled and her chin jiggled. Her husband always knew which words were the right ones to say. Dabbing with gloved fingers underneath her eyes, she nodded. "Okay. We'll see where this will lead."

"Excellent," Lucius crisply replied and turned to Mr. Berry. "Now if I could just have that account number…"

Mr. Berry grinned nastily. "But of course…with conditions."

* * *

"Fancy a trip to Salem?" asked Lucius when returning home through his office Floo, his wife following behind him.

She untied the strings of her robe and then paused with pursed lips and wide eyes. "So soon? Shouldn't we get in touch with a few of our contacts over there first? They might be able to fetch some information for us."

"We can do that when we arrive."

"Or we could hire a private investigator?" suggested Narcissa. "There's no need to leave home. I hear The Creevey Brothers are quite good, have their own business and such. They're quick and would most likely have all of our questions answered with in a few days."

"Come now, Narcissa. This is not a situation that requires a professional investigator. We only want to know what our son was funding, not where he buried the body." Lucius chuckled darkly and poured himself a glassful of Firewhiskey

Narcissa let out a ragged breath and sat down in the nearest chair. Ever since Draco's death, weariness had plagued her limbs, robbing her body and mind of energy she once had. She knew she was not a young and spry girl anymore, but she had never felt old until burying her son.

"Is something the matter?" asked Lucius to his wife.

"I'm…" She rubbed the spaced between her eyebrows. "I miss him. I know you do, too, but I'm trying to…be alright. I know I don't want to go anywhere ever, and it's not healthy, but you want to dillydally in Draco's past, so you can recreate him in a sense, and it will not work."

"You're being absurd. I just want to know-"

"Why?"

"Why don't you?"

"Because it doesn't matter. Draco's gone and everything he left behind does not matter without him. This should mean nothing to us. We should stop the withdraws, cancel his accounts and move on."

"In time, we will, but think of this as a business investment or a will from Draco. It can be one of his last presents to us."

"Stop!" shouted Narcissa as she covered her ears, tears streaming down her face. "Stop doing that. Stop saying those things. You're just saying them, so I'll see things your way."

"Of course I am, Sweetheart. Is it working?"

"Yes! Now stop!" Burying her head in her hands, she heard Lucius set down his glass and shuffle towards. When feeling his hands on her shoulders, rubbing tenseness out of her posture, she leaned towards his touch with an annoyed glare.

"You love me, you know," he told her with a small grin.

The frowning corners of her lips twitched. "Mmm. You have your purposes and such," she said airily, earning a tickle on her neck.

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank very much to all those that have reviewed, are following, and have favorited this fic. I'm so grateful and pleased! :) Because I feel that I got a decent amount of feedback of sorts: whether by reviews, followers, and/or favorites: I'm posting the second chapter. I hope everyone likes it.

Thank you to: **BeWhoYouAre99, roseberrygirl, lovealan, amama123, that-moment-between-strangers, Swisscheckers, and immapoetandiknowit** for the reviews. A lot of good stuff was said, and I'm happy. There was a question or two in there, and I usually try to answer in my Author's Notes each chapter, but I hope this chapter will do the talking for me.

Anyway, I present the second chapter of Lineage and hope for a little R&R. Enjoy!

* * *

_A few days later…_

"Mistress," said Mippy with a bow, interrupting Narcissa's tea time who had decided to take her beverage into the Main Sitting Room.

"Yes." Narcissa sat down her teacup and listened.

"Master requests your company as soon as possible in Master's office."

Narcissa Apparated outside her husband's office, entering upon arrival.

"Yes? What is it?" she asked him, scrutinizing the situation. His frown was deep and troubled and his brow scrunched from confusion.

Lucius looked up from a tri-folded piece of parchment as she moved towards him. "I contacted a few old friends and colleagues in Salem who were able to _help_ us with the account number."

"And?"

"And…" Lucius exhaled deeply. "The account does not belong to a Quidditch team or member, or even a single person. Nor does it belong to a business, at least not the kind of business either of us were thinking."

"You are being vague, Husband. Please tell me what is going on," Narcissa said impatiently

Lucius raised his chin and quirked his eyebrows, letting the parchment in his hands fall to his desk. "Now, we don't know what this means, Cissa. It could very well mean any-"

"Tell me!" she barked, her heart thumbing harshly against her chest bone, not entirely sure as to why her husband was trying to break whatever he knew gently. Merlin, what had her son been up to. She had hoped it wasn't ghastly or illegal.

"Fine," whispered Lucius. "The account belongs to a…It belongs to a school."

"A school?" Narcissa repeated in question. "I don't understand." She watched as her husband opened his mouth, saying nothing.

"I don't understand, Lucius," she said again. "A school? What school?"

Her husband stood up and straightened his tie, sucking in a sharp breath. She had seen him do this before whenever something unexpected or terrible happened. It was his mask of indifference.

"Lucius," she called to him again, her voice cracking. "What school and why are you acting this way?"

He walked over to his stash of alcohol and poured himself an ample amount and downed the glass in a few gulps.

Realizing she was not going to get an immediate answer from him, Narcissa walked over to the forgotten parchment on his desk and picked it up, reading what Mr. John Woods had to inform. Skimming the pleasantries, she focused on what her husband was upset about.

Salem Prep Institute for Developing Magical Children.

She dropped the parchment like she had been burned, thousands of excuses running a marathon inside her head. Quickly, she verbalized one to her husband. "Th-this doesn't mean anything. This is nothing to be upset about. Draco was donating to a school. A good school. I've heard many good things about that school a-and-"

"Don't be purposefully daft," Lucius said, his tone rising in ire as he pointed to the letter. "He was not donating money to another country's school because he thought it was a good idea. Draco had a difficult enough time donating to War Orphans in _this_ country. He's paying for a-"

"Darling, please," Narcissa begged. "We don't know anything. We mustn't jump to such hasty conclusions."

Undeterred, Lucius finished with a growl. "He's paying for a child's tuition. It's in the letter. The yearly payment for a child to attend is equal to 18,000 galleons. What is that divided by twelve months?"

Narcissa shook her head violently and cupped her forehead, feeling a dull throb poking at her frontal lobe. "You're being ridiculous. Draco does not have-"

"He very well may have," Lucius said harshly and leaned against the mantle for support. "He was not exactly celibate, Cissa."

"If he had had a child, he would have told us," she claimed with assurance inside her head, knowing better inside her heart. "This is not something you keep from your parents. And for Merlin's Sake, Lucius, this is in the States. When had Draco ever visited the States?"

"You talk of him like he had been stuck to your side for the past thirty years. It would have been simple for him to have gotten a Portkey and take a holiday. Salem is probably where he met a girl and-"

"Please stop talking like you know what happened! We don't know anything!"

"It's only obvious. Now we must arrange a Portkey promptly. Tomorrow we shall make our trip and…Where are you going?"

Narcissa turned stepped inside the Floo disappearing in a burst of green flames and arriving in the Sitting Room of an old friend's home. Smoothing any visible wrinkles from her robes, a House-elf appeared.

"Mrs. Malfoy," squeaked the elf and he bowed deeply. "Pip will alert Mistress of Mrs. Malfoy's arrival."

"Actually, I was hoping to speak with your Master."

"Pip will notify Master." He disappeared with a pop, and Narcissa walked deeper into the spacious Sitting Room, the portraits greeting her with politeness. It was such a nice welcome compared to the Manor where the portraits thought her to be an aging, non-fertile waste of a witch.

She did not have to wait long before the Master of the house entered the room with a pleasantly surprised grin. He took both of her hands in his and kissed them both before kissing her cheeks.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you look lovely," Blaise complimented and she smiled warmly at him, her hands clinging to his forearms like a lifeline, and then his welcoming behavior morphed into solemnity. "How are you? I haven't seen you in quite some time. I've been worried."

"I'm…" Narcissa sighed heavily, "as to be expected."

"And Lucius?"

"The same."

"I'm a bit surprised at your visit, but would you care for some tea."

"Please," Narcissa said. "And can we take it somewhere private. As good as it is to see you; I did come here for a purpose."

Blaise guided her to the Tea Room where Pip was already preparing the tea set on the table. Ever the gentleman, her late son's best friend helped her into her seat before taking his own.

Narcissa sipped at her tea and then rested the cup back on the saucer and linked her fingers together, staring at Blaise pointedly as if she were trying to extract all he may know without the frivolity of asking anything.

Actually feeling the physical pressure of her stare, Blaise cocked an eyebrow and asked, "What is the purpose of your visit, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I do apologize for the abruptness of my uninvited arrival, but I simply had to know."

"Know what?"

"You were Draco's best friend. You knew him better than anyone. Better than I and better than my husband."

An unreadable expression flittered across the handsome young man, but his dark eyes narrowed in inquiry. "Mrs. Malfoy, if you are presuming that I may have known something concerning what happened to Draco…"

"No, no, no," Narcissa said vastly, shaking her head. "I know what happened to Draco wasn't anyone's fault and especially not yours. There was no way of knowing, but I'm talking of something else. You and Draco were close and more than likely shared secrets."

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, but Narcissa raised a gentle to stop him. "I'm not here to impose, and I certainly do not want to know _everything_ you and my son did. Heavens, I think we'd be here all day, wouldn't we? Don't answer that. No, I just want to know one, maybe two things, Draco may have shared with you."

Blaise blinked his discomfort and shifted in his seat and smiled tightly. "And what is it you think Draco shared with me?"

"The other day, Lucius was going through some Draco's old bank statements and noticed monthly automatic withdraws. Usually we would not have been bothered by such a thing, but the sum of the money was quite high and peaked our curiosity. We discovered the withdraws were payments to a bank account in the States, Salem to be exact." Narcissa paused and gave Blaise a meaningful look. "Do you know where I'm going with this?"

"No," Blaise replied slowly with a frown. "Was I supposed to?"

"You don't have to lie, Sweetheart. I won't get mad. It wasn't ever your place to tell me. It was Draco's."

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I think you know."

"I don't."

Smiling forcefully and more than a little irritated by Blaise's childlike grasp on Draco's secret, she said, "Lucius and I know where that money has been going, and I want you to tell me everything about what you know, so there isn't any conclusion jumping."

"About what?"

"About where the money is going?"

"The money? The money that you said is being automatically being deposited into a bank account in Salem?"

"Yes."

"I have no idea as to what you are talking about. I have to say with all honesty this was not something Draco divulged to me. May I ask about the account to which the money is going to?"

Narcissa stewed a bit, staying silence and debating whether Blaise was telling the truth. He was an excellent liar, but with her son having passed away, why would his friend need to lie?

It was very un-ladylike, but she rested her elbows on the table and cupped her forehead, shielding Blaise from her view, wanting to feel alone for a just a moment.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" she heard Blaise say.

"Hmm?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Uh…" Narcissa noised shakily and chuckled wetly, throwing her hands up in surrender. "I don't really know. All I know is that Draco may have been hiding something from me and Lucius, and I had thought that maybe he told you something about this particular secret, and I've come to find that he has not told you."

"May I ask what he did not tell me that you think he should have?" Blaise asked gently, reaching over the table and patting her hand softly.

She smiled thinly at his comforting tactics which quickly dissolved into a bitter grimace. "The account where the money has been going belongs to a school, a school for children. I had hoped naively that maybe Draco was donating to the school but…" The rest of her words died on her lips when they struck horror in Blaise, his eyes widened and his mouth hung open. "You really didn't know?"

Numbly, he shook his from left to right. "No," he whispered. "He never said or even…indicated. Merlin, he…"

"We're not sure," Narcissa put in. "Remember, we don't know for sure or…"

"I think it's obvious now, Mrs. Malfoy, with all due respect."

Narcissa nodded slowly and pressed her lips firmly together pensively before speaking, "Oh."

Blaise sighed heavily and furrowed his brow and shrugged. "Do you…have any plans concerning all this?"

"Lucius wants to go to Salem and find…I'm not sure what exactly. A child, I suppose, but to do that, we'll have to find-"

"The mother." Blaise bobbed his head up and down, stroking his chin, unable to help stifle a smirk. "Any leads on that?"

"No. Would you?"

He softly chuckled, his eyes shining with memory. "Draco had quite the reputation with the ladies, Mrs. Malfoy. Not to place any discomfort on you, but the girls came and went up until the engagement. Speaking of…how is Astoria? Have you spoken to her since the funeral?"

"No," Narcissa replied quietly. "We were never close and didn't even meet properly until the Engagement Party."

"How far back did the bank statements go? Perhaps we can do the math together, and maybe I can help you with the witch in question, though I doubt it."

"The statements they Lucius and I have rifled through run back four years, and the school, Salem Prep Institute for Developing Magical Children, teaches children from three to eleven years of age."

Blaise whistled and smiled ruefully. "Blimey, that's an expensive place, and Draco was paying for it. Reckon he cared a little?"

"Please."

"Right. Assuming the…child...*ahem* started school at three, I imagine he or she would be near seven maybe eight years old. I can't really say I remember a girl from so long ago. And if he was in Salem with the girl, then I really cannot help you. I didn't even know he'd been to Salem. He never talked about visiting or taking a holiday there at all. But then again, he never mentioned having a moppet, either."

"This is all a bit…" Narcissa brought the sides of her hands underneath her eyes and dabbed at her bottom lashes, "overwhelming. What am I supposed to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, honestly," she blubbered with a sharp chuckle. "What would you do?"

Blaise quirked his lips and teetered his head like he was deciding and then said, "I can't really relate to this, but from a friend's opinion…I think I'd want to rise to the occasion."


	3. Chapter 3

Narcissa burst through the Floo, startling her husband who appeared to be on his way to being thoroughly sloshed.

"Mippy!" she called to her House-elf who appeared instantly. "Pack all that we may need for a week's trip. The Master and I are going on holiday."

"Are we?" Lucius' smile was soupy. "How lovely. Where are we going?"

"Salem. I talked to Blaise, and he's arranging a Portkey for us as we speak. It'll be ready within the hour."

"Darling." Lucius frowned. "I've been thinking about it, and I don't feel it's a good idea to actually go to Salem. Maybe the private investigator was a good idea."

"No." Firmly shaking her head, Narcissa continued, "We have to do this. This is Draco's lineage. Our lineage, Lucius."

"Now you're becoming sentimental," scoffed Lucius and drained his glass. "The child is a bastard. Unless Draco secretly married the woman to whom he impregnated, the child is illegitimate. It could be worse, even. The child may not be Pure. The Americans have no sense of posterity and would breed with flobberworms if it were possible. It does make you wonder why Draco kept this little tidbit in the dark. He was ashamed, Cissa, and probably for a good reason."

"So we're just going to ignore we have a grandchild out there?"

"Don't say that word," groaned Lucius, summoning a bottle of scotch and refilling his glass.

"What word?"

"Grandchild."

"Grandchild!" she hissed and waved her hand dismissively. "And I'm going to Salem to see for myself. Blaise will have the Portkey and will be accompanying us."

"Why is he coming?!" snapped Lucius, slamming his glass onto his desk, the liquid splashing over the rims.

"He wants to meet the child."

"Oh Gods!" Lucius moaned tiredly. "I'm surrounded by Hufflepuff Hoppers!"

"Please put down your drink. Portkeying to Salem will not go well for you if you're drunk."

"I'm not going!"

Narcissa bit her tongue and inhaled a calm breath through her nose. "Fine. You don't have to go. You can stay here, and I will go with Blaise. I will most likely be back within a few days hopefully."

"I forbid you to go!"

"I'm going!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"You go and you will see the child and you will want it! Then you will be Owling me a request to set up a bedroom and a Hogwarts tuition and-"

"I'm leaving!" Narcissa barged out the double doors of the office and Apparated to the Master bedroom where Mippy, Wimma, and Dotty were packing clothes and toiletries into suitcases and bags.

"Are you nearly finished?" she asked.

"Almost, Mistress," replied Mippy.

Changing into comfortable but presentable traveling robes, Narcissa readied herself.

"You needn't bother with Lucius' luggage. Keep it packed, but leave it here. He will not be coming with as I had originally hoped," she told the elves.

Another elf popped in and bowed. "Poppy has come to inform the Mistress that Mr. Zabini has arrived and is being treated to tea and crumpets in the Tea Room."

Narcissa shrunk her luggage and slipped them into her traveling cloak, tying the set of strings to keep them safe. She Apparated outside of the Tea Room and walked in. "I hope you were not waiting long."

"No." Blaise said as he faced the glass wall and stared out at the autumn setting of her garden. "You didn't cast the Resisting Charms."

"I didn't feel like it this year."

"I understand." He nodded. "Are you ready?"

"Not in particularly."

* * *

An embarrassing, monstrous yawn escaped Hermione Granger as she carried a load of books towards the back of her shop. Once in the backroom, she placed the books on a table and began to sort through them, most of the books being returned by university students who had dropped classes and no longer needed them.

Grumbling while flipping through one and finding tears and writing, she set it on the Mark Down shelf beside her.

"You're here early," piped up Luna Lovegood as she entered through the back door.

"So are you," Hermione threw back with a tired smile.

"I couldn't sleep. The Andions were keeping me awake."

"I wanted to sort the mess before Matthew came in, and I wanted to leave early today. I have to be at the school at noon for a conference with Alex's teacher."

"No lunch?" questioned Luna with frown.

"Lunch is for the privileged, Luna. When was the last time I actually ate lunch in your presence?"

"Not for a long time, I think." Luna lifted her finger to her chin like she was trying to recall a memory. "Do you need help with those books?"

"No, just opening the shop. Darlene and Jackson are readying the café. If you could put the tills in the cash registers, I would sure appreciate it." Hermione checked her wristwatch and grimaced. The shop would be opening up in fifteen minutes, and then four hours with her nose stuck in paperwork and books. She needed to make a few Floo calls, too.

Around ten, she ran out the back door for a smoke break, promising herself with each puff, that cigarette would be her last one. But then Marilyn Caldwell, sister of Mac, called and informed that her twin brother had been attacked by a ghoul and would need three weeks of time to recover.

And then the coffee delivery…

"Dear Gods!" rasped out Hermione while looking down into the open pouch of what was supposed to be coffee beans. Jackson gave her a nervous look and pointed his wand at the inner contents.

"Should we burn this and all the other packages?"

"No!" she shouted and brought hand to her mouth. "This is bad. This is really bad. I knew that delivery man was dodgy, but his delivery charges were so cheap, I couldn't afford to care."

"What are we going to with it?" asked Darlene.

"We could sell it," Matthew piped up with a lazy smile.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione choked out. "I don't know about you, but I do not want to get arrested."

"You can't say you're not tempted. We've got over thousands of plinkets worth of blow."

"Why did I hire you?" Hermione frowned at him and then turned her attention back the open bag of 'not coffee'.

"We have this, but I wonder where the coffee is," Luna said.

The coffee nightmare had to be postponed because Hermione's Remind Me Planner smacked her in the face and yelled at her she was late for her meeting with Mrs. Fitchell. Cursing, she told Luna to take care of the problem before Disapparating and arrived outside school grounds of the Salem Institute for Magical Developing Children. With single mindedness, she ran towards the entrance, brushing past a faceless man and muttering an 'I'm sorry'. Sprinting down the hallways, she stopped abruptly in front of Mrs. Fitchell's classroom and nearly toppled over but grabbed the doorknob for balance and stumbled in with sheepish grin.

"Hello," she greeted to the older, thin-lipped woman and her son who was sitting by the teacher's desk. "Sorry, I'm late. There was trouble at work and-"

"I understand," said Mrs. Fitchell, but from her tone, Hermione surmised she did not. "Please sit."

Hermione took the empty seat next to her son and playfully tickled his knee and rubbed his back. "So what are the updates? Are there any problems?"

"No," Alex said with a grin.

"Yes," Mrs. Fitchell said with her eyebrows touching her hairline, giving the boy a reproving glance.

"Oh," Hermione said and looked at her son with a skeptical expression. "And whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing," Alex said in a sing-song voice while shaking his head with big eyes.

"He's a smart boy," the teacher began, smiling tightly. "Very smart and very bright. However…" she paused and clasped her hands together and opened her mouth and then shut it with a sigh. "Perhaps we should speak alone."

"I guess," Hermione said, not liking the idea of her son having to be absent from the conversation, but if the teacher thought it best…

"Alex, you may sit outside in the hallway. This is should only take a few minutes." The teacher gestured to the door, and the boy grumbled while picking up his bag and walked towards the door with a pout. When he was out of earshot, the teacher continued, "I'd like to talk about Alex's behavior."

Hermione breathed deeply and couldn't help place a wry smile on her face. She had been here before, discussing her son's personality with teachers. "Of course."

"He likes to cause trouble, play practical jokes and pranks on the other students, and on me."

"And you're sure it's Alex who is doing this?" Hermione asked, placing her hands on her lap and eying the teacher carefully.

"Well…I haven't actually caught him but-"

"So how do you know it's him?"

"The way he behaves after an incident is proof enough."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"So you've never actually seen him as the creator of these jokes and pranks."

"Well…no, but-"

"With all due respect, Mrs. Fitchell, if you cannot give me any proof that my son is a troublemaker, then I would like to discuss his academics to which I thought that I was here for."

* * *

Alex stood outside the classroom, scuffing the toe of his right tracker on the floor with a protruding bottom lip. He knew that old hag was telling his mum all kinds of stupid things. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, his belly growled and he whimpered petulantly. It was time for lunch, and it was pizza day in the cafeteria, and Fitchell would most likely take forever in telling Mum all the bad things he supposedly did.

Not sparing the door behind him a second glance, he made way towards cafeteria; each step closer, he could smell the baking bread and the sharp scent of cheese. His mouth was watering at the idea of pizza being right around the corner, but a tall figure walked in front of him, casting a shadow up on him. Alex glared up at the tall, dark skinned man and said, "Excuse me; I have to get to the cafeteria. It's pizza day."

The man stared down at him blankly with narrowed eyes and stepped aside. "I apologize," he said in an English accent, much like his mother's. Alex stopped from going further, the man's accent intriguing enough to postpone a slice of hot, pepperoni pizza. His mother and father and Luna were the only people he knew who spoke with an English accent. Everyone else in the area, including himself, spoke in an American accent.

"Where are you from?" Alex asked, folding his arms and cocking his head to the side. The man said nothing at first, making the boy feel like he was under a microscope.

"You shouldn't talk to strangers, but since you asked, I was born in Italy and raised by an English woman." The man paused and gave him a slight smile. "What about you?"

"I was born here, obviously," Alex said slowly like he was talking to a younger child. "But I was raised by an English woman, as well."

A few students filtered out of the cafeteria, drawing Alex's attention. Licking his lips, he forgot about the stranger and jogged away.

* * *

Hermione left the classroom with Mrs. Fitchell guiding her out, both whipping their heads back and forth in search of Alex.

"Now where did that boy go?" Mrs. Fitchell tapped her foot impatiently.

Hermione checked her watch. "He may have gotten hungry. I'll check the cafeteria for him."

"Send him back as soon as possible. He has lines to right for me. And remember what I said, Ms. Granger. Your son needs a consistent male figure in his life."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes and smiled tightly and made a face at the door when Mrs. Fitchell disappeared behind it.

She ventured down the abandoned hallway and turned a corner and saw someone standing in front of the cafeteria facing the entrance. Probably a parent. As she walked closer, her pace slowed and her eyes widened in recognition.

"Blaise Zabini," she whispered to him, and he turned, a look of utter astonishment lighting up his face.

"Granger?" he said back, his brows cinched together

"What are you doing here?" They both asked in unison.

"I live here." Hermione made a motion with her hand pointing to the ground, her own brow drawing together tightly and something dawned on her. "You're here with Draco, aren't you? He told you."

Horror flashed across Blaise's face, and something feeling very close to dread seep into her bones. "He didn't tell you. Then why-"

"You're the girl," he mumbled and staggered sideways to lean against the closest wall, shaking his head.

Hermione pursed her lips in question and had no idea what to say or do as Blaise muttered incoherently to himself.

"Blaise," she said, feeling her throat constrict and swell, like it was becoming in-tune with the dread inside of her. "Are you here with Draco?"

"Draco." He drilled his eyes into her, and Hermione felt like running away. Like grabbing Alex and fleeing somewhere where nothing could touch them or hurt them because something was wrong, and she could not afford emotional conflict.

Maybe she should sell the blow.

"He's not here," Hermione stated in a very low breath. "But you are. Why? I-is he okay?"

She watched the man's mouth open only to have nothing come out. He shook his head no.

"He's not okay? Will he be? Is he sick or hurt? Does he need anything? Does he-"

"I'm sorry," Blaise whispered hoarsely.

Her stomach rocketed towards her throat where the swelling became unbearable, and the choking sob had to be released. Tears poured down her eyes as she brought a hand to muffle her weeping.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone: reviewers, followers, and those who favorited. I appreciate it all and makes me feel good inside and makes me want to update as soon as I can.

Thank you to: **amama123, Avana, lovealan, Guest, Atlantean Diva, driftinginclouds, DrAmIoNeLoVeR1154, bushyhaired-american-nerd, Amusant, roseberrygirl, and BeWhoYouAre99** for the reviews.

I know Hermione was a bit OOC in this chapter, but I changed her character a bit for this story. In the next couple of chapters, we will kind of see how she came to be the way she is.

I got a few comments on Draco's demise. Is he still alive or not? And how did he die? I won't say how he died because it will be said in the next chapter or two. I will say with much regret, Draco will not be making a romantic/dramatic return from the dead. However, there will be some framework narrative coming up with a lot of our boy in it. I realize I may have just upset a few readers, but that doesn't mean Draco and Hermione hadn't had any fun. (hint, hint: stuff to come) And Lucius will eventually be on his way to Salem, too.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. R&R, please. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to all: Reviewers, readers, followers, and those who favorited. *blows a kiss in all directions*

Thank you so, so, so, so much to: **Guest, amama123, keyra89, igenac, DrAmIoNeLoVeR1154, BeWhoYouAre99, arabellagrace, jeffrey-dallas, Jace101, Guest, roseberrygirl, driftinginclouds, Bumpyduey, bushyhaired-american-nerd, and UntalentedArtist.**

Lots of good things were said, and I am so happy to have done some good in my writing and am so grateful to all of you that have reviewed and told me your thoughts.

There are a few of you (probably all) that are sad because Draco is dead, and I'm not bringing him back.

To **BeWhoYouAre99**: Okay *nods in compliance*

To **jeffrey-dallas**: I guess a little homage. :) I'll do my best in making sure the setting of Salem is good.

To **amama123**: My most faithful. *bows in humble reverence* I adore you.

In this chapter, you will see Hermione acting very unlike herself. Be prepared to scratch your head and ask **'what the hell?'** And instead of Hermione giving her parents the urge to move to Austrailia without her like in the book, I did what the seventh film said she did. I'm also testing out some framework narrative stuff and writing about the past, so...yeah. Enjoy and R&R!

* * *

There were times in the last eleven years Hermione wished she had made different choices in her life. When the War was over and Eighth Year started with an 'I'm bored and can't sleep well' and ended with a 'Do I have enough time to smoke this in girl's loo during the bathroom break of N.E.W.T.s?'

To this day, the reason as to why Theodore Nott was in the Gryffindor Girl's Lavatory at three o' clock in the morning was still a mystery to Hermione. But that winter night, Hermione had finally managed to let exhaustion consume her and lull her into a three hour sleep. It took that long for her to have a nightmare where she awoke in a cold sweat and a racing heart with her wand in hand. Having calmed her racing blood that roared for a battle, she had made way to the loo and was surprised to find the Slytherin sitting in the middle of the room flicking the last of bit of his fag before tossing it behind him without a care.

"Don't do that! You'll burn the place down!" Hermione had shouted.

He said nothing, did nothing but light another with a wave of his fingertip and puffed like she had said nothing, like she was not there.

"Excuse me!" she had shrilled and marched over to him and pointed a finger down at him. "Stop that this instant!"

"You look lovely," he had drawled, sarcasm richly coating his tone while his eyes traveled from her fluffy bunny slippers to the wildness of her hair. And no, he was not checking her out. In fact, the once over was so asexual, Hermione blushed anyway for not being pretty enough because having a boy actually take the time to see her and soak her in, only to have him actually see nothing, was a bit saddening. Lowering her pointed finger, she wondered as to why she was not the one on the bathroom floor when clearly it was where she belonged.

Seconds passed and Nott had looked elsewhere, like the tiled floors and the lion's mouth faucets were that much more interesting than the human being residing next to him.

She should have left, marched back to her dormitory and try and go back to sleep. But she didn't. Instead, she stayed and watched the boy finish his cigarette, flicking the butt over his shoulder to join the previous one.

"Those will kill you. You need to stop, " Hermione had prissily said.

"Want one," Nott offered while holding the case up to her face. They were not encased in a carton like most Muggles carry their habit but in a cigarette case made of silver with engraved snakes and flames as a design.

"I don't smoke."

"You look like you need one."

"Everyone looks like they need one, but they don't get one because they're smart and want to live longer than the average bear."

"The average who?"

"Never mind."

"You especially look like you need one." Theo had waved his case up towards her face, and Hermione frowned down on him.

"I will not succumb to peer pressure."

Theodore had smoked one last cigarette before hitting his flask, offering her a swig. This, she did partake of and had let the Firewhiskey scald her throat and chest and tummy. Following ten or so sips, Theo offered another fag and she accepted and the morning came as did a habit.

The Eighth Year ended, and Hermione graduated with high marks and an engagement ring from Ronald Weasley to which she gave back a week later with a 'You don't want me, and I'm leaving.'

Australia had been her destination. Finding Mum and Dad had been top priority and with an excellent Tracking Spell, she found them…living separately and with different people.

Hermione remembered seeing the house as to where the spell had taken her, wondering why the Spell was tugging her instincts in another direction when she knew she was where she was supposed to be.

A car pulled up in front of the garage and her father stepped out of the car with a rounded-stomach woman Hermione did not recognize.

Having seen enough, she followed the tugging and found Mum in a little chapel on the outskirts of Sydney exchanging vows with a clean cut, middle-aged man.

They did not know her, her parents. How could they when she took their memories from them? And maybe she could have fixed it all. Waved her wand and gave them back and have her parents again, but as Hermione stood across the street from a hospital where her father had ushered that rounded woman, she decided not to.

Leaving Australia had been emotionally difficult, but she would only be torturing herself if she stayed, so she hopped on a plane back to the London airport where she remained for four hours. Simply, she could have left, found some discreet place and Disapparated anywhere. But she didn't. Instead, she wandered aimlessly from terminal to terminal, wondering where she should go. It took one hour of the four to decide and another three for a flight to be available.

Bulgaria had been expectedly chilly, and Viktor had been delighted upon her visit which had extended into a two year stay by his side where she did nothing but be his girlfriend and bed warmer. And don't get Hermione wrong. She had fun doing both, but the relationship lost its sizzle, and Viktor admitted to have fallen in love with another witch.

Not entirely heartbroken but a little down, Hermione fetched a Portkey to Magical Paris where she found a job at a tiny bookshop and rented the small flat located above the business. The owner of the shop was incredibly nice, incredibly cute, and had wandering hands, and couldn't speak a word of English. The first time Pierre grabbed her bum she was stooping over to pick up some discarded books after closing time. She had jolted in surprise and said nothing, knowing she should be peeved and more than a little offended. But it was kind of nice knowing a cute boy thought her to be desirable.

The second time Pierre grabbed her bum she was ready and whirled around and grabbed his. Needless to say he and Hermione did not leave the bookshop that night. Their relationship had been more physical than anything and probably was categorized in a 'friends with benefits' kind of deal. He taught her French, and she taught him English. He taught her how to smoke like a true Parisian, and she taught him how to make a proper cup of black coffee. Their togetherness lasted for six months. About then, Pierre began talking of going back to school, and Hermione fully supported him. Even when he decided to the sell the shop for tuition.

Whilst browsing for a new flat and deciding whether to stay in Paris or go somewhere else, Hermione had started thinking of her own educational future. When she had graduated from Hogwarts, she had felt _done_. The War and Eighth Year had drained her of her passion to be the best student. Oh, she was still the smartest, most brilliant person she knew, and libraries were still orgasmic, but wandering off to Uni had sounded awful after Hogwarts.

Being twenty-two and watching a good, sexy friend wanting to change his future, Hermione had begun to think about hers and had considered moving back to the Muggle World, catching some midnight train to London, and applying to Uni. And she was going to do just that but Pierre's younger sister badgered Hermione into coming with her and some friends to a club for a going away party.

There were times Hermione wished she had made different choices in her life.

She had met Dmitri at the bar when ordering her drink. She went to pay the bartender when the boy's hand shot out with a handful of chiquet coins, paying the keep for her drink. Looking back, Hermione could only hold just a smidgen of self-respect for herself for not going home with Dmitri that night. Nevertheless, he had persuaded her to stay just a few days longer in Paris, and for him, she ended up staying another two months.

Dmitri had been charming, sweet, and incredibly vague about his Russian upbringing. But Hermione had been young, adventurous, and knew the infatuation would end soon, so she had better soak it up good and proper. She had moved into his spacious flat where he gave her a room with a view, and little by little, Dmitri began to show his true colors. A month in a half into their two month fling, Hermione had begun to wonder if he even really liked her. He would say sweet things and then snap at her in broken English, and then say apologetically sweet nothings in her ear. And sometimes, she would catch him staring at her like he wanted nothing more than to strangle her.

The fling ended when he tried to kill her.

She had gotten off of work and was minding her own business when entering the flat. The entire area was dark, and Hermione unsheathed her wand to give light but was interrupted from being tackled to the floor by a painful force of invisibility connecting to her chest and spreading everywhere else.

The pain was excruciating and familiar, and Hermione was unsure as to how long she suffered the Cruciatus Curse by the door. It felt like years until the boiling lava in her veins reached her brain, and numbness settled within her.

She remembered waking up to a white ceiling with florescent lighting. Whipping her eyes around and straining to move her sore muscles, her eyes fell on someone she had not seen in three years.

"Harry," she had hoarsely whispered, discovering it hurt to speak. It was like she had swallowed an entire collection of sharp instruments.

"Hermione," Harry greeted with a pained smile. He was sitting in a chair beside her and took her hand in his. Her eyes fell to their joined fingers, and she noticed a ring on his left hand. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily, more than a bit saddened about having missed his and Ginny's wedding. However, those matters of the heart and mind would have to wait.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

She watched as he raked a hand through his hair and exhaled loudly with a dry, mirthless chuckle. "Where the bloody hell have you been, Hermione?"

She furrowed her brow at his choice of words and opened her mouth to respond, but he proceeded to speak.

"Everyone's been worried about you. Molly has become a nuisance with her fussing. You completely disappeared for over two years. I half-wondered if you had died."

"Of course I hadn't." Hermione's frowned deepened, and she took back her hand, so she could pull herself up into a sitting position.

"Then where have you been?"

"Around," Hermione answered vaguely, seeing a cup of water on the table beside her and grabbing it for a drink.

"Don't be like that. I'm your best friend." Harry reached over brushed a stray curl away from her face, and Hermione caved.

"I've been…trying to find myself, I guess you could say."

"How's that going for you?"

She smile tiredly, her hands gesturing at her surroundings. "Obviously not well. What happened?"

"What can you tell me about Dmitri Vanko?"

"Not much," Hermione admitted abashedly. "We were together, I guess you could say, but we were roommates more than anything. Especially these past few weeks. It was him that did this, wasn't it?"

"Yes. And his last name is not Vanko. In fact, I've been trying to find him for the past three months. He bolted the night before his trial at the Wizengamot. Hermione, do you have any idea how lucky you are that I found him when I did?"

"Who is he?" Hermione asked.

"Anton Dolohov's son."

Tears had sprung from her eyes, and she covered her mouth to stifle and gasp. "How could I be so stupid? The signs were there…"

Harry squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, but she read the way he was looking at her. He was wondering the same thing. Really, she used to be brilliant. She definitely was not smartest person she knew anymore.

"Come home, Hermione," he whispered to her. "Come home and grow up."

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you so much to all who read, reviewed, are following, and have favorited this story. *Jumps up and does a happy dance*

Thank you to: **BeWhoYouAre99, driftinginclouds, Atlantean Diva, amama123, and lovealan** for the reviews! Good things and good comments were said.

To **BeWhoYouAre99**: I'm glad you still find the story enjoyable. I know how much you want Draco to be around and no one else in Hermione's life.

To **amama123**: You're amazing! :)

Enjoy the Chapter, please and R&R and tell me what ya think. Sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

_Harry squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, but she saw the way he was looking at her. He was wondering the same thing. Really, she used to be brilliant. She _

_definitely was not smartest person she knew anymore._

"_Come home, Hermione," he whispered to her. "Come home and grow up."_

His words were harsh just like the Portkey to Grimmauld Place where she stayed for a week dodging Ginny's questions and insistence to contact Ron and restart their relationship as soon as possible.

"Like before Thursday," Ginny had said eagerly.

"Why?" Hermione asked with narrowed eyes.

"Because he's getting married Friday."

"Oh."

"That's all you have to say?! Just a simple 'oh'! Don't you care? Aren't you jealous?"

"It's been so long, Ginny; I would have been surprised if he hadn't moved on. And no, to answer your question, I am not jealous."

"But he's marrying Parkinson!"

Hermione did raise a brow at the information, but she held strong to her ground. Ron Weasley was her past and would stay that way forever.

She did attend the wedding despite not having been invited, and Ginny had paraded her like a prize horse in front of Ron who had been nothing but kind and genuinely worried of her well-being but not in the least bit love-struck or regretful.

There were times in the last eleven years Hermione wished she had made different choices in her life.

And for a while, she had wished she would have not attended Ron's wedding. Draco Malfoy had been there, showing his respect for the bride and flirting with anything wearing a skirt at the reception. It wasn't long before he had found Hermione outside the Parkinson Mansion.

"Where the hell have you been?" he had drawled, leaning up against the stone exterior of the mansion with a knowing smirk.

He had known nothing of course. He never had, but Hermione knew he probably liked to think he did. Pretending to know made his opponent feel nervous or paranoid, and it was a very Slytherin thing of him to do, but Hermione was not fazed in the least of the little boy who was dressed up in Daddy's clothes.

"Around." Hermione shrugged and dropped her cigarette on the ground and stubbed out the embers with the toe of her shoe.

He chuckled and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I had hoped to see you at Uni after Hogwarts. I thought for sure you would be there. Imagine my disappointment when you were nowhere to be found…_by anyone_. Oh, and let me guess. This is the part where you hastily and snootily say that it's none of my business."

"It's not," Hermione monotonically said.

"You look good, by the way," Malfoy said, leering unashamedly at the exposed expanse of her throat and the bodice of her dress. "Let me buy you a drink, and we can catch up."

"It's an open bar, Malfoy."

"Even better." He beckoned her to come with a tilt of his chin. She frowned at him rushed passed him into the reception hall and easily lost herself into a crowd. Nevertheless, she found herself at the bar, promising herself to only sip at the champagne. She wasn't a drinker in the least, but free alcohol was free alcohol.

Draco had eventually found her and attempted to chat her up with compliments and questions, all to which she ignored. His pickup lines were becoming slurred and his interrogation repetitive. Hermione had stood up to leave, tiring of him and the celebration, but Draco stood up with her and kissed her soundly on the lips and then she was sprawled on the floor and looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Draco popped into her vision with a silly grin. "My flat."

"I see that," Hermione replied dryly and climbed to her feet and looked around. "I believe you just kidnapped me."

He pouted. "Don't be like that."

"I will."

"Stay."

"No."

"It'll be fun."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"But I've been fantasizing about you for years."

"I don't believe you."

"I used daydream back at Hogwarts all the time. Remember when we'd get paired up on in Potions. You would lean over at the table, and not even that unflattering robe could hide that luscious rump. I wanted you bad, Granger. You can't tell me you didn't want me, too."

Hermione blinked at him. Honestly, the thought of wanting Draco never crossed her mind…like ever. He was always such a prick. She wasn't even sure if she had ever perceived him to be attractive.

"I've never wanted you; I don't think," she replied with a shrug but looked at him. Really looked at him. She started with his shoes and absorbed ever detail as her eyes traveled upwards, stopping here and there on the way and ended at the top of his blonde head.

Well, well, well. He certainly was attractive, wasn't he?

"Like what you see?" Draco grinned lazily and slit his eyes, making his eyes hooded and mysterious.

Hermione tapped her pointer finger on her chin pensively. The last boy she went home with had tried to kill her, so she wanted to be careful.

It would be so easy to leave, but if she did, she'd be back at the Grimmauld Place with Harry and Ginny and their disappointed faces because they thought she was wasting her life away with untreated PSTD and cigarettes.

Which she totally was.

"What are you offering?" Hermione asked with intrigue. A look of surprise lit up Draco's features and then he smiled.

"A weekend's time to get you out of my system. I'll return you home Sunday evening."

"Such honesty and chivalry. How sweet," Hermione clipped condescendingly and stole a glance of the flat. She appeared to be in the sitting room, so she walked over to the nearby sofa and collapsed upon it, casually kicking off her shoes. She figured if she was going to do this one last act of childish behavior, she might as well go for the gold. Monday morning, she was leaving via Portkey to the States. Salem to be specific. Harry had been right about one thing; it was time to grow up, and Massachusetts was an ideal place. The university there was supposedly one of the best in the Magical World and happily accepted Non-American Muggle-Borns who were automatically qualified for funding: scholarships and loans. The semester had already started a few weeks prior, but she was sure a name-dropping could shoo her in.

"So you're staying?" Draco smiled eagerly and stole the place next to her on the sofa, plastering the front of his body to her side, his face shooting towards the crook of her neck.

Yes, she had stayed. And as promised, Draco returned her to Grimmauld Place late Sunday afternoon where soon upon arrival, she told Harry and Ginny of her immediate plans of travelling to the States and going to school. Expectedly, they had been weary of her decision but were pleased she had chosen to further her education.

Rusty had easily defined Hermione's first few weeks of school, taking her that long to get back into the swing of things and climbing to tiptop, academic shape. Easily, books became more distracting than boys. Not even the cute Texan wizard who played guitar without a shirt could pull her away from her studies. But by Gods, he sure tried.

A few weeks before finals found Hermione in her desolate dorm room studying for her exams which were going to be held in only three weeks. She hadn't been feeling well but summed it up to the weather and the stress. Fatigue nagged at her limbs and fogged her brain. She had been dozing on and off during her study session and, most unfortunately, during class time. Each time she slipped into a slumber, regardless of how short or long the nap was, she'd wake up with a sharp headache drilling into her frontal lobe and often would vomit right away, never having enough time to reach a rubbish bin or the toilet. Her classmates thought she had a drinking problem.

Her appetite came and went and came and went, again. Hermione would have spouts of hunger where she would wake up at two in the morning and need a crispy burrito from Muggle Taco Time and fast. Unfortunately, the nearest one was in Brampton, so she had to purchase a Portkey Pass due to the area being out of the country.

At first, Hermione had tried to satiate the hunger with the 24 hour Mexican restaurant on campus. It was a good place, and the first month of school, she had loved the authentic flavors. However, the first time she tried to substitute her craving with something else, she barely had enough time to find a place to vomit. She ordered the best thing on the menu: the spicy, chicken burrito drizzled with hot sauce and three different kinds of cheese and was smothered with salsa and crushed tortilla chips with more cheese. It was incredible, and Hermione had kicked her smoking habit in favor of the burritos during the first few weeks of the semester. But her taste buds must have changed because it tasted wrong. The cheese was too pungent, the chicken sour, the hot sauce burningly bitter, and the tortilla chips too salty.

She also wanted chocolate.

All the time.

The good stuff, too, and Hermione's budget was not in compliance.

Magical Massachusetts fine chocolate was overly expensive, causing Hermione to venture to the bank and exchanged her plinkets in for U.S. dollars to buy Ghirardelli fudge sauce and eat it as is. Sometimes she brought it with her to Taco Time and dunked her burrito and tater tots in it and had a feast.

And let's not get started on the peanut butter cravings.

Hermione had set her pen down, (because pens were cheaper than quills in the States), and rubbed her forehead with a whimper, sensing a migraine coming up fast, thinking maybe she should schedule an appointment with campus Medi-Witch.

* * *

Healer Schaffer lit up the tip of her wand and shined in Hermione's pupils as she sat on a sturdy, paper covered cot in a hospital gown.

"Let me guess as to why you are visiting me?" The woman smiled knowingly, showing off her perfectly straight, white teeth and how far she could stretch her full lips. The campus Healer had graduated the year prior and was annoyingly pretty, and according to rumors, slept with her patients (meaning students and teachers alike).

"Alright," Hermione said. "Guess away."

"Birth control," she clipped smugly and pricked Hermione on the nose with her finger playfully as she would a child. "You want to be prepared for that special step forward when you finally meet that special someone. Would you prefer potions or pills?"

Hermione blinked. "Neither," she said slowly. "I'm here because I've been ill and can't seem to get better."

"Oh…" Schaffer flushed in embarrassment and giggle nervously. "Sorry. I'll just take your blood pressure then. My assistant weighed you, correct?"

"Yes."

Hermione's blood pressure was taken, and Schaffer took some notes in a portfolio, a frown forming on her lips.

"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked, and the other witch pursed her lips.

"When you came in for your check up on February 2nd, you weighed 105 pounds. Since then, you have gained ten."

Hermione smiled quizzically and shrugged. "Is it a crime to gain weight? But I do admit, I have been indulging a bit. I'm having these violent cravings: one of my symptoms."

"Uh huh." Shaffer nodded, urging her to continue.

"I'm also getting these killer migraines which are causing me to throw up. I'm also very tired all the time. Even if I manage to get a solid eight hours of rest at night, I wake up and feel like I could go for another eight."

"And what time to these headaches usually occur, Miss Granger?"

"Um…there isn't really a pattern. Always in the morning yes but randomly throughout the day."

"Hmmm." Schaffer scribbled in the portfolio and then turned back to Hermione with an expectant look. "When was the last time you menstruated?"

"Last month."

"Can you give me the specific dates?"

Hermione frowned and thought back to all of April and March, trying to remember her cycle. She was irregular anyway, so…

"Maybe I didn't have one. I'm sure I had one in March . My cycles are irregular and come and go as they please."

"Hmmm," Schaffer said again and jotted down some things before setting her pen down and shooting her hand towards Hermione and lightly squeezing a breast.

"Ow!" Hermione hissed and laid a hand over the tender, cotton covered flesh and then shot Schaffer and an affronted expression. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry, but I barely touched you. May I ask what kind of birth control you are prescribed?"

Hermione cocked her eyebrow at the question. "I'm not on prescribed birth control. I've always used the Contraceptive Charm because the pills and potions are extremely expensive where I'm from."

"The Charm." Schaffer grimaced and set down the portfolio and her pen and summoned a seat for her to sit on. "That would explain the irregularity in your cycles. The thing about Contraceptive Magic is that it's like any Charm performed correctly. It's powerful but is being cast on a very delicate and sensitive area. Contraceptive Charms tend to overcorrect and cause sporadic cycles within women. Another thing about the Charm is that it can only work before intercourse and by the caster pronouncing the spell correctly."

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked. "I don't know where you are going with this, but I can cast the spell just fine!"

"The partner you were with in late January, which I'm estimating,...did he cast the spell correctly?"

Partner in January? Hermione inwardly boggled. Partner in January? Partn- Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

…

…

Oh!

"Are you saying-" Hermione's words fell short and realization dawned on her.

"We'll do the tests to make sure," Schaffer said with what was supposed to be a comforting smile, Hermione assumed, but looked more like amusement.

The blood and urination tests came back positive as did the ultrasound. As Hermione travelled back to her dormitory, she held a picture of the parasite Malfoy had put in her.

She was going to kill him.

That is…if she decided to tell him which she was not.

Hermione had been three months along, nearing the end of her first trimester and let nothing dissuade her from her final exams, promising to deal with the complication once the semester was over.

School ended and the summer in Massachusetts was blooming beautifully, but unfortunately, Hermione's wallet was not. Since she had chosen to attend a summer semester, she was able to stay in her dormitory, but her scholarship had not covered the Healer visits and the prenatal potions and the maternity clothes. She had tried to transfigure some of her clothing, but they only held their larger shape for a few hours.

A job search was in order, but all the ones she applied for had politely refused her, her tummy bump capturing the owners' or managers' disparaging eye. Finally, after weeks of searching, she got a job as a cashier at a bookstore but had to quit soon afterwards when her Healer ordered her on bed-rest once she entered her third trimester. As her due date approached, she had swollwed her pride and sent Draco a letter.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you to all that have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited.

Thank you to: **Vaneesa85, keyra89, amama123, Atlantean Diva, Guest, driftinginclouds, roseberrygirl, angel897, Guest, and BeWhoYouAre99** for the reviews. I got a couple of opinions, suggestions, and questions. The main questions was: How did Draco die and why did he have to? The first question will be answered in this chapter. The Why did he have to...(looks guilty and shrugs) I'd have no storyline I would be happy with. Don't get me wrong. I love Draco, thus, why he will be mentioned and reflected on a whole bunch in this story, but I wanted to write something different. I like to write things I don't read often. Anyway, that's my selfish two cents and hope no one runs far away from this fic because Dastardly Dashing Draco will not be coming in at the very end and sweeping Hellcat Heroine Hermione off her feet. Just sayin...But thank you to those who are going to stick it out and see where this fic takes us.

On another note, I will be taking an updating break from this fic and my other fic, **The Art of Distracting**. There is this post for **Lineage** today. Tomorrow I will post for that fic and then I'm taking a break from updating for a week or two. I need a break before the hols come and bite me in the arse. I will still write, but there will be no updates...unless I am manipulated by reviews and such. I may easily succumb to my audience. Anyway, enjoy the chapter! R&R! :)

* * *

"So what happened when Draco found out? What did he say in his letter back to you?" asked Blaise, leaning over from his sitting position on the couch to pick up the hot cup of tea off the glass coffee table in Hermione's sitting room.

She dabbed at her eyes and nose with a tissue and smiled painfully at him, like a memory was stabbing her in the stomach with a dull spoon.

"He was that excited, huh?" Blaise inquired lightly with evident hints of sarcasm in his tone.

"He was…" Hermione tried to find the appropriate word to describe the response she had received from Draco eight years prior. She was not really up for the task of explaining to Blaise on how irritated Draco had been at the news of getting her pregnant, but he had promised to drop by Salem when convenient. "Curious. I don't think he actually believed me when I wrote to him but promised to, and I quote, 'drop by to say hello.' He was _always so charming_, but I had only contacted him because I needed him for legalities and such and…" Hermione paused and fresh tears streamed down her face. "Blaise you never told me what happened with Draco. Was there an accident?"

The man sat down his empty teacup, and a flash of bitterness curled low at the corners of his mouth and clouded his eyes. "The Healers called it a…cerebral aneurism."

"A cerebral aneurism?" Hermione gaped. "That's awful! How? What triggered it? Were there signs?"

"There never are concrete symptoms before an aneurism occurs, Granger," Blaise said in a low, troubled voice. "It happened during a Quidditch game between Draco, me, and the rest of the boys. He was playing Seeker, and he caught the Snitch and fumbled off of his broom. It was only a few feet down, but he fell to the ground. He quickly got back up and brushed himself off and then fell back down." Blaise turned away from Hermione's watery orbs and focused on the pictures of Alex resting atop the mantle, having a difficult time rehashing the memory without succumbing to a sobbing fit.

"We thought he was playing some joke. He was always exaggerating an injury, so we all laughed and told him to get up. He didn't, of course." Blaise wetly chuckled, his smile grim and pained. "I don't know how long it took for us to realize he wasn't faking it."

"How long ago was this?" Hermione wept.

"About six weeks."

"Six weeks," she repeated in a whisper. "He wasn't answering my Owls, but the money was coming. I sort of just thought he was busy. On his last visit at Easter, he told me he was thinking about asking Astoria Greengrass to marry him."

"Draco visited you? How often did he come?" Blaise did not miss the startled blink and the twitch of Hermione's lips at his latter question.

"It varied as Alex grew up. He was there when Alex was born if you hadn't guessed. I had a very difficult pregnancy with him, not to mention I was past two weeks from my due date when I went into labor, which nearly killed me. I had lost consciousness halfway through the delivery from overexertion and blood loss. I woke up a day later only to find Draco had taken it upon himself to name our baby and sign the important papers and do all the legal work _for us_. I was so upset." Hermione smiled regretfully. "I had wanted to give Alex up for adoption."

Blaise shot her an affronted look, upset from her confession.

"Don't look at me like that. There was _one_ reason as to why I asked for Draco's presence: I wanted him to sign on the dotted line, assuring Mr. and Mrs. X and the Adoption Agency that the baby was not ours to keep. I was a poor college student, Blaise. I was on the verge of losing my scholarship and was 25,000 plinkets in debt with medical bills. I couldn't afford a baby and was still living in my dorm room with a roommate whom I told, as well as anyone who asked, I was giving the baby up. I wasn't ready to be a mum in any way, shape, or form.

"I tore into Draco, furious that he sent the nice barren couple away, but he didn't care. He just stood there and smirked at me at the foot of my hospital bed like he was pleased by ruining my life, and then the medi-witch came in and handed me Alex and…" A nostalgic smile wafted across her face. "Not much mattered after that."

* * *

_Eight Years Prior..._

"Why did you do that?! How could you?! It wasn't your place to send them away!" Hermione screeched from her hospital bed and picked up her cup of ice water from the bedside table and threw it at Draco. He scrambled to get away but was splashed in the face, his smirk wiped off completely.

Glaring at her, he swiped at the droplets and responded with equal venom. "I can't believe you were going to give away my child, Granger!"

"Oh, so now you're admitting you got me pregnant! You're such a prick, Malfoy! You give me no sign as to when you're going to show up and then you're here now and telling me..." Hermione stopped to catch her breath, her body still very weak. "It's not yours. It isn't even mine. I asked you here for one reason. You were to sign the papers and hand it over to them."

"Him"

"What?"

"Him, Granger."

She stared at him wildly and jutted out her chin to show him she didn't care. "_He_ is not ours. We cannot have _him._ _I _am a student, an impoverished one on the brink of losing all of my free financing. The dean of the school and my professors are not impressed that an unmarried student had to take time out of school to have a baby, Malfoy."

"Then I will take him home with me, and you can go back to her perfect Uni life and not be bothered!"

Hermione felt her womb spasm, and she winced at him, her chin wanting very much to wobble from his threat. Because that's what it was. Draco was not going to take the baby with him back to Wiltshire…right?

And why did she care? He could have the burden. The parasitical liability had given her nothing but nine months of torturous agony. Her pregnancy had not been beautiful, enlightening, or special. Every two weeks from the time she found out about her state, she had to attend Healer visits because her OB was concerned about the sharp body aches, weight-gain, the continuous vomiting, and the heavy spotting that occurred more often than normally. The miraculous event such as pregnancy and birth had been atrocious for her!

"Fine," Hermione hoarsely said and folded her arms protectively over her hospital gown and flung them away when coming in contact with something wet.

She stared down at the two circular wet spots on the material over her chest with a troubled frown.

"It's milk, Granger," Draco told her slowly as if he were telling a three year old and not a fully grown woman. She snapped her head up at him at glowered at him with murder in her eyes. "I know what it is, prat!"

"So sorry, but you looked confused. I thought I would help."

"You thought it would help to tell me I have milk spouting out of my boobs when it's been happening for days? Am I or am I not the one who just gave birth? I know the mechanics!"

"Merlin, you're such a bi-"

"Hello!" a woman in a medi-witch uniform greeted with a smile upon entering the hospital room while rolling in a small, crib-like gurney. "How're the Mommy and Daddy?"

Hermione and Draco stared at her blankly.

"As expected." She nodded, her beaming undeterred by the tension in the room and stopped the gurney near Hermione's bed. She picked up a small, swaddled bundle with careful and practiced hands and shuffled over to her. "So sorry for the wait. You two have been so patient, but his fever is down now, his lungs are clear, and his cry is piercing as a healthy baby's should be."

"There was something wrong?" Hermione asked with raised brows and tossed Draco a confused look, and he guiltily shifted on his legs and avoided eye contact.

The medi-witch gave a panicked look and winced an apology at Draco.

"He had pneumonia," he stated and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "But he's okay now."

"Would you like to hold him?" The medi-witch offered the bundle to Hermione. "And if you're up to it, he does need to be fed. If not, we can get him a bottle."

Hermione apprehensively stared at the small bundle in the other woman's arms and hesitantly lifted her own. She had not taken any childcare classes like her Healer had told her to for financial and personal reasons. She could not afford them, and she had not planned to keep the baby, so she hoped her handling with the infant was passable.

When Hermione felt the light weight of the child pressing into her arms and chest, on its own accord, her hand slightly pulled the dark green fleece blanket away from his face, so she could see him properly. She placed her eyes on the tiny white cap on his head and saw thin, curly wisps of blondish hair poking out. His skin was thin, red, and splotchy, and his was nose small and pert. His lips were squishy and full looking as they puckered and sucked on air, his small tongue delicately poking out for something that wasn't there.

His eyes were closed, but it was like he could sense the scrutiny, for the small expanses of veiny skin fluttered open and revealed big, colorlessly grey eyes.

Catching a whiff of something sweet and wholesome, her heart melted and oozed into her aching womb, and she brought the baby closer to her face and pressed her nose just above his brow and inhaled deeply.

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and smelt.

Tiny licks at her chin evoked a laugh from Hermione. Not caring about the two other presences in the room, she tugged on the string of her hospital gown on her shoulder and brought her son to her exposed, leaking breast. She pressed her lips together to muffle the groan of discomfort twitching deep in her tummy and held her gaze steady on her feasting boy.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked the medi-witch, who came over and helped Hermione adjust the angle of her arms and breast.

Fingers caressed the slope of her neck and pushed back her mussed curls. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from the baby to look up at Draco. He was beside her, staring down at her with a self-satisfied smirk like he was the only one in the world to have managed a feat like getting a girl pregnant. There was also a hint of lust in the depths of those mischievous peepers.

"Oh, you think it's sexy, don't you, Perv?" She curled her lips into a snarl which melted away when he stooped down and brushed his lips on her cheek.

"Yes," he rasped against her skin.

Hermione smiled ruefully and turned her lips to his and kissed him. She kissed him like it didn't matter she hadn't seen him for nine plus months. Like it didn't matter he had destroyed her already faulty life from a mis-chanted spell. Like it didn't matter he was an imbecile.

He returned the kiss, and she could feel his lips stretching into a grin.

Their smooches did not last long, due to a damp sniffle interrupting them. They turned towards the medi-witch who was flushed with embarrassment and fanning her tear-stricken face.

"I'm sorry," she cried, "but you make such a beautiful family. I'll leave you alone now." But before she left, she turned to them and said, "And Scorpius Alexander Malfoy is such a strong name. It must've taken you two some time to think it up."

Hermione gaped at the empty space where the medi-witch had once been and then whipped her head around to face a smug-faced Draco.

"You named _my_ son?!" she bellowed and pulled the baby closer to her bosom where he continued to slurp loudly and cutely.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm back! Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. I shall hope to be updating regularly now.

Thank you to: **roseberrygirl, Vaneesa85, and BeWhoYouAre99** for the reviews.

To **roseberrygirl**: I understand. It's the same way I felt with my baby. :)

To **Vaneesa85**: Yes, Alex's name is actually Scorpius. I will go on to say on how he was called by his middle name instead of his first.

To **BeWhoYouAre99**: Yes, it's physically painful to lose a parent. I am so blessed to still have my Mum and Dad, but I know it's not something one can get over. Futhermore, in this story, there will not be 'getting over' Draco's death for anyone. There will be acceptance and closure. It's probably going to be a bumpy process, but have no fear. There will be a lot of flashback Dramione goodness in this chapter and the ones to follow.

To **my faithful readers**: Please R&R and tell me what you think!

* * *

_"You named my son?!" she bellowed and pulled the baby closer to her bosom where he continued to slurp loudly and cutely._

"Oh, so now you want him?" Draco feigned surprise and then sighed. "You were asleep, Granger. Mr. and Mrs. X were gone. I had every right to name him, and you probably would have named him Harold or Ronny or something equally nauseating."

"I wasn't going to name him at all. Mr. and Mrs. X were going to, remember?"

"Which was why I sent them away. I…_accidently_ ran into them in the lobby. They were talking about naming him Ashley."

"They were not. And you just _accidently_ ran into them in the lobby? I don't believe you. And my son will not be called Scorpius and definitely not a Malfoy. We are not married and…you came up with the name awfully quick."

Draco shrugged and reached out to brush the tip of his finger against the roundness of his son's pillowed cheek pressed snugly against Hermione's chest.

"Don't worry too much over the Mr. and Mrs. X. I indirectly directed them near a room housing a fifteen year old girl who was out of her mind from all the potions they gave her after her birthing session. As for the naming of _my_ son. I thought it suitable for Black tradition to name him Scorpius, seeing as how he is a November child."

"Well…" Hermione gave him a conflicted smile. "It's a nice name, but it shouldn't belong to my son."

"It's a good name, Granger," argued Draco. "And he's my son, too, like I said."

"That's the thing, Malfoy. He is…but he's not really."

"Come again? What rubbish are you spouting? Trying to tell me this little moppet with blond hair and a penchant for pretty girl's breasts is not mine? I know what you are doing. Now that you've seen him, you want him and don't want to share."

"You're partially right," said Hermione, "but I'm not talking about ridding you of the baby's presence. I'm talking about how he doesn't belong in your world."

"My world?" He furrowed his brow. "If you are thinking about raising him in the Muggle World, then-"

"No. I did not mean the Magical World. I meant the aristocratic, Pureblood world. I mean your family, Malfoy. He doesn't belong there. He wouldn't be accepted into your society. He would be an outcast among his peers."

"The picture you're painting is a lot harsher than it would be."

Hermione shook her head and pressed her lips together firmly. "Really? And how would your parents take the news about this? How would anyone back in England take the news? I don't want this to be a public scandal. I just…I just want to be left alone. I want _him_," Hermione gestured to the baby, "to not be surrounded by what we grew up with. What _you _grew up with. It's a fine name, Draco, that you wanted to give him, but it should be another boy's name at another time. You'll get married to someone else and have other children. What will you name them? Ashley? Harold? Ronny?"

Draco frowned at her and made a hand-wave gesture for her to scoot over. Not really wanting to and unsure if she even could, she shook her head.

"Yes," he insisted and Hermione grumbled and awkwardly shifted to her right while clinging to the baby. He had fallen asleep but wasn't letting go of her boob for anybody.

He molded himself to her side and maneuvered them both, so she was resting her head on shoulder. His fingers played with the springy strands of her hairline and she asked, "What are you doing?"

"We could, you know."

"We could do what?"

"Get married," he whispered, tugging gently on her hair with a transfixed gaze on her exposed breast and what was attached to it.

* * *

"He offered to marry you?" Blaise blinked owlishly. "Let me guess. He changed his mind."

"No, I never accepted," Hermione informed with a pained expression, a hint of regret sparkling in her eyes.

"Why not? You would've been set for life. You wou-"

Hermione cut him off with a vexed glare. "I said no because I didn't love him. At least not right then." Blaise cocked an eyebrow at her answer and she waved a dismissive hand. "When Alex was born, Draco wanted to be in his life, and he thought the only way to be a permanent figure was to marry me. He didn't love me. He loved our son, and I told him he could be a part of his life, but…"

* * *

"…Scorpius will not be a part of yours. I won't allow it." Hermione folded her arms as she stood in the middle of the empty living room of her newly rented apartment. She jutted out her hip and sent him a 'listen to me or die' glare.

"That doesn't make sense, Granger," Draco whined and stared at Scorpius sleeping in his arms. "You're mum makes no sense. Whatever shall we do with her?"

"It makes perfect sense, Malfoy. You can come here and visit," Hermione's voice drifted throughout the flat as she walked down the hallway.

"But you can visit, too, when you come to England on holiday. It would be a good icebreaker for my parents to find out. We won't tell them. We'll _show_ them! Perfect plan."

"I told you I didn't want them to know. I will not be returning to the UK," she said from the master bedroom.

"Like ever?" he asked while he shuffled into the room behind her. "It's your home."

"It's a place where I lived for a long time, and I will not go back," she affirmed and stared out of the curtain-less window. Her bedroom had a nice view of Magical Salem, and she frowned. "This isn't right, Draco."

"Oh, dear," he groaned and looked at his sleeping son once more. "She's using my first name which means she's serious."

"I am serious." She rubbed her forehead tiredly. "This isn't right. It's not right for you to be paying for this flat. And for the furniture that will be arriving any minute."

"Let's not forget the Post-Partum Aerobics class I enrolled you in."

"I'll never forgive you for that."

"Sweetheart, I love a girl with meat on her, but-"

"Your son did this to me! I looked perfectly fine before."

"Actually, you were a bit too thin then. I mean, I was glad to have managed to seduce you but-"

"I will kill you slow and bloody if you ever open your mouth again," Hermione threatened and then glowered at him before rushing into the adjoining bathroom and studying her reflection in the mirror. Twisting her body from left to right and craning her neck to scope out her extra packing, she morosely sighed.

"The weight will come off, love. Just keep breastfeeding and attending your tri-nightly classes."

"It's just…embarrassing I guess. I gained over forty pounds and lost only nine since giving birth. Your son made me eat horribly fattening things. I swear, I was eating up to eight times a day by the end of it. For a while there, my day would not be complete without a full serving of chili-cheese fries smothered in butter-caramel."

Draco blanched and shot a skeptic glance at his son. "Indeed?"

"I'm never getting pregnant again. I should've had them fix me while I was in the hospital." She walked over to him and took Scorpius and smooched the baby on the cheek. "I've got my baby, and now I'm good for the rest of ever."

The furniture arrived and Draco had murmured in irritation when Hermione had sent the furnishers away.

"It's their job to set up everything, Granger," Draco whined and grimaced at the unorganized stacks of the rather large boxes fillingup the living room.

"They'll do it wrong," Hermione huffed and began to levitate a few boxes down the hallway and towards the nursery.

"Only if they don't follow instructions."

"I've come to find doing projects myself means it only has to be done once," Hermione snootily clipped and gently placed boxes down in the middle of the nursery, which did not look like one at all. She frowned at the plain white walls and tapped her wand on her chin pensively and then smiled slyly at Draco.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked carefully.

Hermione waved her wand around the room, the plain white walls darkening to a scarlet red with golden, lion-shaped imprints. Draco goggled in horror at his new surroundings and protectively snuggled Scorpius closer into his chest. "I don't think I'll leave you here. You're mum is barmy."

"Hush you. I think it's…_sweet_," she said lightly and lifted her nose up in the air.

"It's dastardly, and you will scar your child forever."

"And what would _you_ put on the walls, Malfoy? Hmm?"

He quirked his lips and handed her Scorpius and waved his wand about, and Hermione rolled her eyes at what he had done.

"Yes, you are right, Draco. Red walls and yellow lions are so much worse than dark green walls and silver imprints of snakes that are not only moving, but are hissing, as well. Scorpius will grow up to a right, fit boy with sociopathic tendencies. I can see it plainly." She waved her wand and removed the green and the snakes and replaced it with a soft blue hue with white imprints of Mickey Mouse heads.

"I don't get it." Draco shook his head at the color and patterns.

"This is what my nursery looked like when I was a baby, except my walls were pink. This is perfect for Scorpius."

"Almost." Draco twirled his wand and the Mickey Mouse heads formed into the shapes of scorpions and animated them to silently snap their pinchers and crawl around.

"It will do, I guess. Open that box over there. Yes that one. I think that's the changing table. Your son needs to be changed."

Once the nursery was set up, Hermione made Draco levitate more of the boxes from the living room and into the master bedroom. He quickly set up the bed, and she shifted the baby in her arms with a wrinkled forehead.

"That's a big bed. Is that a king size? I don't need a king size, Malfoy. A simple queen would have sufficed. It'll just be me and sometimes the baby."

"It better just be you and Scorpius," Draco stated hotly while magically dressing the bed with emerald rich sheets and a silver comforter with matching pillows.

"And I didn't pick those colors. I told you I wanted the beige and brown patterns."

"Those are mood killers, Granger. When I come and visit, I want to have you without being turned off by your bad taste."

Hermione snorted which turned into an incredulous cackle. "You're not having me again, Draco, so you just wasted money."

"Oh, I'll have you," he promised with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I'll be showing my dashing arse come Christmas. I remember the Healer saying you should be healed by then. I asked, you know?"

"You would." Hermione rolled her eyes and opened another box, the corner of her lips tugging upwards when revealing the contents. She levitated the bassinet parts and assembled with a swish of her wand.

"Shouldn't that be in with the nursery?" asked Draco.

"I want Scorpius in here with me during the night." She spared him a glance. "When he cries at night, he won't have to for long because I'll be right next to him."

Draco gave her a funny look. "That's odd. He has his own room. You should put him in it."

"It's not odd," defended Granger, a bit puzzled by his response. "A lot of mothers keep their newborn babies right next to them, even if the babies have their own room."

"My mother didn't do that. Pansy's mother didn't do that. I don't know of any mother that has done that."

"Well, my mother did, and it's perfectly normal in the Muggle World to do so. And what do you mean your mother and everyone else's put you in a nursery and leave you there for the night. What if you cried? How would they know unless they heard you?"

"The House-elf would…Oh…"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and marched over to him and snatched Scorpius. "I don't have one of those nor would I ever want one. _I_ will take care of my child as _I _see fit. I don't want any of your weird, matronly Pureblooded traditions shoved down my throat."

"Believe me, I won't," Draco said with a horrified expression. "If you followed the tradition, you would have hired a wet nurse, and I wouldn't get to watch you do something really, really sexy."

"You're a smarmy pig, Malfoy." Hermione cuddled her son closer to her chest and smiled down at him when he shifted a tiny bit in her arms and pressed his mouth to the underside of her breast and slobbered and sucked on the material of her polo, tiny whimpering sounds coming softly out of his mouth.

"Speaking of." Draco waggled his eyebrows and grinned toothily at her.

She would have glared at him, but Scorpius' whimpers were turning into hunger cries, so she hurriedly placed herself on the bed and lifted and separated all that was needed.

"Ooooh, somebody was hungry, huh?" she cooed down at her baby and then felt the bed shift behind her and a weight resting on her shoulder. "And I'm so sorry your daddy is a big pervert who can't keep his eyes and hands to himself. You won't grow up to be such an icky prat, will you?"

A laughing rumble vibrated through her shoulder, and she turned her head to look at him. He had his nose and mouth buried into her shoulder and was staring at their son and her breast like he said he would.

Feeling a crick in her neck and back, Hermione decided to lie down when switching breasts, resting her tired body against the soft mattress and pillows and Draco followed suit, nestling closely to her body.

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this fic. I'm pleased to know that it pleases others to read. :P

Thank you to: **Woemcat, BeWhoYouAre99, doomsday2012, Vaneesa85, roseberrygirl, amama123, DrAmIoNeLoVeR1154, Angel Girl5, Jordana Babe, Guest, bushyhaired-american-nerd, and amartin0507** for the reviews. I enjoyed reading them.

Many of the reviews commented on the cuteness of the previous chapter of all the fluff stuff between Draco and Hermione. The fic is so sad. Draco's dead, so I like to put light and happy sfuff in the middle of the chaos to make things better for me and my readers.

I'm going to touch base on some of the other comments I've been recieving on the whole Draco/Astoria factor because he was engaged to her when he died. I know ya'll want to know what happened there and why he was planning on marrying her, but I'm not going to tell. You will have to continue to read to find out. I will hint, and you all will squeal with dismay at this, but he was not being coerced into a matrimonial bonding with her. Also, I will not be bashing Astoria in this story at all. I know I have before in my other fics, which have been deleted and are going under construction, but I won't in this one. I'm going to try and keep the plot of the story close to real-life scenerios, and real-life scenerios have no time for bashing.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think! R&R!

* * *

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"I sort of lost you there. Where did you go?"

"Sorry," Hermione said and inhaled deeply, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. "Where was I?"

"You were talking about the nursery before you became silent."

"Oh." She tucked a curl behind her ear and checked her wristwatch. "Look, um…Alex is going to be home any minute. I'm not really up to explaining who you are and why you're here just yet. This will be hard on him. I hope you understand."

"Perfectly, but don't hesitate too long. Narcissa is here, and she wants to meet him," Blaise explained with urgency in his tone.

Hermione's stomach flew up and hit the back of her throat, her eyes widening in horror. Feeling nauseous, she slowly stood up and shook her head. "What?! She's here?! No!"

"Herm-"

"No!" Hermione screamed and then let out a shaky breath to calm herself. "With all due respect, I get she wants to meet Alex, but it will happen when I think it's appropriate."

"Hermione, she has a right to meet her grandchild. And bloody hell, Hermione, it's appropriate now. She needs to meet him," Blaise said sternly.

She shook her head. "No, she doesn't. I'm his mother, and I will say when she can meet him."

"You can't just-"

"Yes, I can," Hermione calmly said. "And Draco supported that."

"I find that hard to believe."

"He did. If he hadn't, he would have told you and his parents about Alex, but he respected my decision to keep all of this quiet. Blaise, you have to know Draco's parents, his friends, and even mine were never supposed to know about him. It wasn't a 'we'll wait until he's older and then we'll tell him about the Malfoy name' or 'we'll wait until he starts asking questions.'"

"Th-"

Blaise was interrupted by the front door opening and then shutting, and Hermione froze in panic.

"Mom, I home, and I want to call Mrs. Fitchall Mrs. Bi-" Alex stopped when he saw his mom and the man from school standing in the living room.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Hermione greeted with a strained smile. "How was the rest of your day at school?"

Alex ignored her and frowned at the man standing beside his mother. "I saw you at school. What are you doing here?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer for Blaise, but he cut her off with a quick answer. "That is a very good question. I am a friend of your mum's."

"What are you doing here," Alex repeated, his frown deepening into a full-flaming scowl and walked over to his mother's side and hugged her possessively.

"Alex," Hermione said in a chastising tone. "Behave."

Alex tightened his hold on his mother's leg and looked up at her. "No."

"Alex."

He buried his head into her hip and then glared at Blaise. "My dad will be here soon, and he doesn't like it when _plonkers_ come sniffing around my mom!"

"Alex! We've talked about your language, and that is no way to speak to a guest." She grabbed his shoulders and bent down to eyelevel with her son who poked out his bottom lip in a scowling pout. "He's only a friend of Mummy's. He…" Hermione paused before continuing. "He is actually friends with Daddy, too. Best friends, actually. Like you and Nathaniel."

Her son's pouty lip sucked in and cast a dubious glance at Blaise. "You're a friend of my dad's?"

"Yes." Blaise nodded and chanced a step closer. He wanted to get a proper look at Draco's son and see if there was any Granger in there because all he saw was his mate twenty plus years ago. "You look a lot like him, your dad."

Alex's frown dissolved and he smiled shyly at him and buried his face into his mom's shoulder into a 'Hide me. I'm shy' hug and then asked her, "Is Daddy here, too? Did he come early for my birthday?"

Birthday? Blaise mused with mild shock and keen interest and watched as Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin, pained line of an almost smile. She shook her head no at her son. "No. I don't think he'll make it tomorrow, Sweetheart. He's busy."

"He's never missed my birthday," whispered Alex, his bottom lip jutting out again to tremble and his eyes filled with tears.

"He's really sorry," Hermione said, trying to fight her own tears as she caressed her son's sullen face.

"Will he be here for Christmas?"

As Blaise listened and mentally jotted down notes of the conversation, he stood in awe and was impressed with Hermione and how well she was holding together, so she could be strong for her son. Yes, he could see the cracks in her face waiting to cave into an emotional crumble, but she wasn't going to fall apart.

"Alex, you know he never misses Christmas," she replied crisply and began straightening his clothes. "Now, why don't you go find Nathaniel and play some Exploding Snap at his house? Dinner will be ready at seven. I'll make macaroni and cheese. I have to talk to Blaise for a bit longer, okay?"

"Will he be here for my party?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say no but sighed instead. "Do you want him to be?"

"Is he really friends with Dad?"

"Yes."

Alex twisted his mouth and rolled his eyes to the ceiling like he was debating something of great importance and then walked over to Blaise and looked up at him and having a mask of a child who had something important to say. "If you tell me funny stories tomorrow about my dad, you can come to my party. Do you know funny stories about my dad? My mom has the best ones! When she brings them up, it makes my dad really, really mad, and he chases her around the house. When he catches her, because always does, he-"

"I'm sure Blaise has very funny stories," Hermione interrupted, her cheeks pinking up as she turned to other adult in the room. "Don't you?"

Blaise smirked at her and gave a firm nod. "I have the best. I'll have to tell you what happened at _his_ eighth birthday."

"Oh! Tell me, tell me!" Alex bounced on his toes with a grin of wicked delight.

"Tomorrow," promised Blaise. "But I have to talk with your mum for a little bit."

"Yes, so go and play with your friend. Be home at dinner," Hermione said and watched her son drop his school bag and run towards the fireplace and disappear with a burst of green flames. Bringing her thumb and middle finger to her temples, she messaged them and hid her eye anguished filled eyes from Blaise.

"When do you plan on telling him," he asked.

"Uh…" Hermione said and bit her tongue to keep her from shouting obscenities. Once she was able to form a proper and short sentence, she continued, "I think you should leave."

She missed Blaise's annoyed expression thrown at her back, but he nodded. "Alright. I'll be here tomorrow. Is it okay if I bring Narcissa?"

Hermione whirled around and shot him a flabbergasted look. "Have you lost your mind? No! Did I not say no earlier? I want you to leave, Blaise. I want you to take Draco's mother and go back to England."

"You think she's going to leave?" Blaise asked with cocked eyebrows. "I go back to the inn and tell her to pack up her things because you said-"

"Exactly," Hermione interjected. "Because _I _said. The moment you tell her that it's me Draco had a baby with, she'll be dragging _you_ back to England."

"She's prepared for the child to be…" Blaise stopped and Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"What, Blaise? A child born without prestigious pedigree? Perhaps. She, however, is not prepared for _me_. I mean…Blaise, you were horrified when you saw me at Alex's school. How do you think Narcissa is going to react?"

"I guess we'll see. I'm going to tell her, Hermione, when I get back to the inn."

She waved her hand in dismissive surrender and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't care either way. She's not seeing him, and that's final." She marched out of the kitchen and down the hallway, raising her voice so he could here, "You know your way out!"

* * *

Lucius cast a glance at the clock near the mantle in his office and placed the curled parchment off to the side that had been in his hands. It was quite late, and he had seen enough to make a decision. He Apparated to his bedroom and shirked his robes to change into some travelling wear. He then summoned his already packed luggage and shrunk it down to pocket-size before tending to his House-elves, firmly instructing them to take care of the estate while he was away to join the mistress in Salem, not knowing how long he would be gone. Narcissa had assumed a week, but Lucius had a sour, heavy feeling in his gut the jaunt would take longer than that.

Sprinkling a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace from his bedroom, he shouted his destination, hoping he was going to be able to get a Portkey to Salem at the time of night.

* * *

"You'll upset them," Luna said while taking two teacup out of the cupboard and filling them with fresh brew, a whimsical smile on her lips.

"I know," Hermione whispered and stabbed the end of her cigarette into the ashtray in front of her. She accepted the cup from Luna who sat down beside her at the kitchen table with some tea of her own. "But this is not about them. It's about Alex. I'm doing what's best for him. Everything I've done was to make things better for him. Narcissa and Lucius are not better. I don't want Alex to be tainted by their bigotry. I don't want Alex to be dragged through a scandal. I don't want-"

"I know, Hermione," Luna said and patted her friend's hand comfortingly. "I wasn't even supposed to know. Have I ever apologized for transferring schools and coincidently applying for a job at the bookstore? But don't be too angry. I was only following what the Thankles told me. I usually had never listened to them, but they were so insistent for me to leave and come here."

"I'm not angry with you, Luna. I just want Blaise, Narcissa, and Lucius to leave me and Alex alone." Hermione checked the clock and realized Alex would be home soon, and she had yet to start dinner. She abandoned Luna and her tea and rifled through the cabinets in search for a pot. Once she found one, she filled it with water and set it on the stove and ignited the flames beneath it.

"Macaroni and Cheese night?" Luna inquired.

"Yes," Hermione answered while retrieving the box of noodles out of the pantry. "Would you like to stay for dinner and keep me from turning into a blubbering mess in front of Alex?"

"Sure," chirped Luna with a shrug and her smile turned solemn. "But when are you going to tell him about his father?"

"I haven't decided yet. Soon. A few days after the party would be best. He's so sure Draco will be coming for Christmas." Hermione sniffled the last part out and wiped at her eyes with one hand and squeezed the cardboard of the macaroni and cheese box in the other, a memory clouding her senses.

* * *

_Eight Years Prior..._

Hermione lay sleeping on her side, curled up in the fetal position to preserve warmth on that chilly night. Outside the window, snow fell in golf-ball sized clumps promising a lazy Boxing Day full of book-reading, hot chocolate, and playing with the baby.

The bedroom door creaked open and a shadowy figure crept into the room, a knee pressing into the lush plumpness of the mattress and sheets. The figure loomed over the woman for a pensive moment and then at the bassinet beside her. He shirked his hat, cloak, shirt, trousers, shoes and socks and stood in his undershirt and boxers. Carefully, he lifted the corners of the sheets and comforter on the opposite side of the sleeping woman and slid underneath, scooting gently towards the feminine warmth and encircling her waist, his forearm flush against the soft, now smaller bulge of her stomach. He pressed his front against her back and buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling deeply. He felt her shift in his arms and heard even breaths come to a halt and draw into a startled hitch. Her body stiffened against him, and he quickly placed his lips close to her ear.

"Shhh, Granger. It's only me."

She turned in his arms and craned her neck to look at him, his mouth lowering to find hers.

"Malfoy," she hissed into his mouth.

"Well, yes. You better have not been expecting someone else," he replied and brushed his lips against hers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked tiredly as he latched onto her bottom lip with his teeth.

"I told you I would be here for Christmas," he reminded and detached from her mouth only to brush his cold nose against the warm skin of her cheek. He tightened his arms around her to bring her closer to him and then slid his hands up underneath the fabric of her shirt to play with the warm skin of her belly.

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited, and followed!

A Big Thanks To: **amama123, Woemcat, Guest, Guest, BeWhoYouAre99, Angel Girl5, and Jordana Babe** for the reviews.

**Soooooooooooo...**I'm getting my verbal arse kicked for keeping Draco dead. From the majority of the reviews, my fic is well-liked, and that makes me happy. But it makes people sad and is causing them to relate to their own backgrounds and history. Some don't want to read anymore, and that's okay. If it's upsetting on a personal level and it hurts to read, I won 't be offended if one should stop. I would never continue to read something that hit me close to home or made me uncomfortable. No offense to those amazing authors, though, who have made spectacular fics, books, or stories that were not designed for my eyes. Nevertheless, I'm **not **bringing Draco back from the dead. I'll be honest, I was never a fan of reading a fic where a character dies and then is mysteriously brought back to life or was never dead to begin with. There's enough of that stuff on TV, and my fic will not be tainted by such things. Sorry, sorry, sorry. The fic is truly about losing a loved one, remembering the loved one, and finding peace. I have lost a loved one quite recently, and I can't bring him back, but I can remember and find peace.

Enough of that now. It's time for chappie, gosh darn it! *rubs at wet eyes* Enjoy and R&R, please!

* * *

"_I told you I would be here for Christmas," he reminded and detached from her mouth only to brush his cold nose against the warm skin of her cheek. He tightened his arms around her to bring her closer to him and then slid his hands up underneath the fabric of her shirt to play with the warm skin of her belly._

"I didn't think you would actually come," she whispered.

He snatched her lips into another kiss and chuckled into her mouth. "Oh, I'll come, Granger."

"You're disgusting," she breathed into his mouth but kissed him anyway, pleasantly surprised by his appearance, regardless of the perverse unorthodox approach he had taken. She had really not expected him to return after he had left six weeks prior. Surely, he would not have wanted to raise suspicion with his parents and friends by ducking out on a holiday. With honesty, she imagined that he would not return inevitably. During those six weeks, indeed, he had written her three vague letters about his doings and asked about the baby's health. She had never written him back because following the P.S, it would say in archaically beautiful quill-man-ship,

_I miss your devastatingly delicious arse_

"I know I'm a little late. It'll be Boxing Day in fifteen minutes. I'm…I'm sorry."

Something fluttered inside of Hermione, and she seized Draco snug in her arms, her hands sliding up to his head and gripping him firmly as she kissed him deeply. They shifted beneath the bedcovers, Draco molding himself on top of her. He paused their kissing so he could reach behind him and grip the back of his undershirt and pull it over his head and toss it to the side.

"Merlin, you warm," he mumbled as his chilled skin touched the heated fabric of her night shirt.

"You're cold," she said to him, the flat palms of her hands smoothing over his skin.

"I didn't want to Apparate in. I knew it would wake you and Scorpius, so I took the jaunt way here. And…by the way." His hands found their way up her shirt again, his fingers flirting with the dips of her waist. "You feel good. The Post-Partum Aerobics class has done great things. I can tell. But not all is gone," he said as his hand slide between her bum and the mattress and squeezed a cheek. "Me likey."

"Pig," she yawned out and smacked her lips together.

"Darling, don't tell me you're too tired for a late-night Christmas shag."

"I'm too tired for a late-night Christmas shag."

He groaned his dismay and leaned onto his left forearm with the majority of his body still covering hers, his other hand teasing circles on her tummy.

"Granger, what are you wearing?"

"Hmm?" she noised sleepily.

"What are you wearing?"

"Oh." She looked down. "Flannel pajamas."

"They're hideous. I thought I bought you some nice sleepwear."

"Teddies and corsets are not nice sleepwear, Malfoy."

"I bought you nice, silk sleep dresses," Draco whined. "I especially liked the green frilly one."

"It's too cold to wear silk night garments, and the baby likes my skin to be warm when he nurses. He fusses if my breasts are cold."

"There are some things to be said about warm breasts, indeed, but cold breast have-"

Hermione smacked on his arm and gave him a dirty look despite neither of them being able to properly see in the dark. "Please don't be crass, Malfoy."

"You like it."

"I don't." Hermione shook her head.

"You do," Draco sang lightly. "In fact, not quite a year ago, we were in a bed which was not unlike this one. Remember? Remember all the nasty things you begged me to whisper in your ear?"

Hermione flushed with humiliation and lied, "No."

"And sometimes it wasn't even on the bed. The things you asked me to do to you on the dining table…I'm about eighty-five percent sure that was where Scorpius was conceived and-"

A tiny whimper interrupted his rambling, and Hermione felt him still and and then shift over her, watching his shadow climb off of her and go towards the bassinet.

"Speaking of," he whispered, a grin evident in his voice. "How's my little prince?"

A warm, gooey feeling pooled inside of Hermione starting at the top of her chest and oozing down into her lower abdomen as she watched Draco's hands carefully dive into the bassinet and retrieve their son. She felt the dampness at her breasts, so she leaned over to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp.

"Look at him," beamed Draco while testing the baby's weight in his hands, bringing the whimpering bundle towards his face and planting a smooch on the infant's crown. "He's grown a bit since I last saw him. Cold breasts or not, he's being fed."

"I've been doing breastfeeding and the formula. I can't seem to produce enough milk for him. He takes all I have and wants more," Hermione explained and watched with a private smile as Draco held Scorpius close to him, finding it very sexy to watch him hold their son close to his naked chest.

"Well, of course he does. He's a Malfoy. Oh, and look. He's got my eyes," Draco announced proudly.

"He's got your everything." Hermione held out her arms towards him and the baby. "Give him here. He needs to be fed."

When Scorpius whimpers turned into soft, pitiful cries of hunger, Draco reluctantly handed him to Hermione and situated himself for the best view possible. He burst out laughing when the baby latched onto his mother's breast and began to loudly suck, grunting eagerly with each gulp.

"Oh, Merlin! He's sounds like a little pig," Draco guffawed and Hermione glared at him and lifted Scorpius' hand and kiss the small fingers.

"Don't say that about him. I think he sounds adorable, and we've already established you're the pig, Malfoy."

"A pig you made a little piglet with," he responded with a smirk and reached over and brushed the baby's thin, wispy, blonde curls.

"Oooooh! Piglet? That's kind of cute." Hermione smiled affectionately down at her suckling. "Will that be your new nickname, Baby?"

"No," Draco said.

"I didn't ask you."

"Scorpius is unable to defend himself against his cuckoo mother, so I must step in and take control of the situation like any decent father." Draco puffed up his chest and stuck up his nose like he was doing something noble. "If he shall go by another name besides his given, he shall be called…"

"Alex," Hermione finished. "I call him Alex."

"Alex?" Draco frowned. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's short for his middle name, Malfoy. Scorpius is kind of a handful to say and not particularly common. When I was quite young, way before I received my Hogwarts letter, many called me Jean. Scorpius is a fine name, but unless you want him to get teased in school…"

"No one would dare tease a Malfoy."

Hermione opened her mouth, about to explain to Draco that on the baby's birth certificate, it did say he was a Malfoy. However, when the time approached, on Alex's school transcripts, it would say Granger. She said nothing about it, though, but merely smiled in jest at Draco and brought up something else to lighten her mood.

"How about Button? I call him that sometimes, too. See his cute little nose that looks like a pink button."

"No. A nickname like that and he will grow up wanting to play tea parties."

"You do know I will call Alex whatever I please, right?"

"But I should have a say."

"Fine. You can call him whatever you please as long as it is not degrading or embarrassing."

"Says the woman who wants to call him Piglet," Draco muttered.

"Let's not argue about this," Hermione groaned and then yawned. "Once Alex is fed and changed, I'm going back to sleep."

"No shagging?" Draco pouted and then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Quick. Finish feeding Scorpius, change him, and we'll have time for a Christmas roll. We've got three minutes. I'm up for the challenge."

Yawning again and snuggling the baby closer to her chest, she said, "I'm really not in the mood, Malfoy."

"But it's Christmas," he whined and sat down beside her to pepper her cheek with kisses, combing her wild hair out of the way.

"I'm sure you've had plenty of presents already. For all I know, you could have already had your fill of…_things _today." She avoided eye contact with him, keeping her gaze firmly on the baby. "You probably had your fill for weeks, actually."

"Granger-"

Hermione looked up at him, a question she had wanted to ask him since he left six weeks ago to go back to England. "What am I to you? A dirty secret?"

His brows cinched together and he frowned. "That's not exactly the term I would use for you, but I guess it has the same meaning. I thought that's what you wanted."

"I'm a secret, Malfoy. Not a dirty one, but is that how you see me? You house me and Scorpius, clothe us, feed us, and then in return, I let you into bed when you visit? Do have any idea what that sounds like?"

"A girlfriend with my son," Draco replied in a deadpanned tone.

Hermione shook her head and pulled Scorpius away from her to switch breasts. "I don't think 'girlfriend' is the correct term. You never asked me to be yours, and I'm not daft enough to think you haven't had companionship back home."

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head to stop him.

"I'm not asking if you had, but I want you to know that I'm not a mistress and certainly not a whore. It's not right that I should be financially dependent on you. There is nothing in this room, with the exception of Alex, that is actually mine. All the clothes in the closet and dresser are things you paid for." She sighed dejectedly and cast her gaze back on her child. "I'm not going to be able to return to school next semester. I lost my scholarship, and I wasn't able to take my final exams because Alex got jaundice. I'm going to have to get a job, so I can start paying off my medical bills and-"

"I already paid those off," Draco interjected, a grin forming on his lips. "And if you want to return to school…"

Hermione shook her head again, her eyes hard and betrayed. "That was not right for you to do that. I-I'll pay you back as soon as-"

"Granger," he growled and brought the heels of his hands to his eyes and pressed in. "I don't want your money, and you don't need to worry about finances. You don't have to work right now, Sweetheart. You can be a mom. If you want to be a student, just send me the bill-"

"No," Hermione forcefully mumbled and glared at him, his offer plucking at her strings of temptation.

"Don't be stubborn, and don't be proud. Be realistic about this." Draco lifted his hand and traced her stony features with a caressing fingertip. "You can't do this on your own."

She pulled away from his fingers with a challenging glare and pulled Scorpius away from her chest and snatched his burping rag from the bassinet, placing it on her shoulder. "I can."

"Fine. You can, but at what expense?"

"I know I'll have to sacrifice some things," Hermione said while gently patting the baby's back.

"You'll have to give up everything, Granger. Don't make this harder than necessary. I _will_ provide Scorpius with everything he needs as I see fit, but I want to provide for you."

"That's sweet, but no. I will not be in your debt."

"In my debt," Draco mocked and rolled his eyes and stood up to encircle his arms around her waist, a hand slipping down to pinch her bottom. She squirmed in his hold with a scowl which softened when he bent down and peppered soft kisses on Alex's little curly head. He inhaled his son's scent and smirked up at her with a knowing wink.

"You're not cute," she told him.

"Liar," he said and winked again. "Come with into the living room."

"I'm tired, Draco. We'll talk more in the morning, but right now-"

"We'll go to the living room." He took her free hand and pulled at her arm.

Digging her heels into the carpet, she mumbled a high pitched, "No!"

"Yes," he countered and tugged at her limb again. "I want to show you something."

"Do it in the morning."

"No. Now."

"No. Morning." She wrenched her arm away and snagged a diaper from the diaper bag next to the bed. "I have to change Scorpius."

"Then you will accompany me to the living room."

"In the morning, I suppose," Hermione replied lightly and laid Scorpius on the bed and began popping open the snap buttons of his onesie. Before she took the sopped diaper off his bottom, she took a foot and playfully nibbled on his toes and feet, and lightly gasped in motherly amazement when she saw the corners of his mouth twitch up at her. It was still a little early for him to smile, but he was almost there.

"Mmmm! You're tasty." She removed the diaper and wiped down his cute baby tush and placed a clean, dry diaper on him. "You're just what Mummy needs for a midnight snack." Snapping all of the buttons back into place, she picked him up and gently bounced him in her arms before placing him back into the bassinet. He whimpered up at her as she hurriedly fished into the sea of blankets to find his pacifier. Once she found it, she stuck into his mouth and cooed down at him when his arms flailed in her general direction. Hermione snuggled him deeper into his special blanket, knowing he was missing the warmth of her body and comfort of her body. The special blanket had been given to her by the hospital when she had been discharged. The material was Charmed to feel and smell like her skin. Draco had thought it terribly creepy, and Hermione secretly had, too. However, creepy or not, the Charmed blanket was the only thing that kept her son's tears at a minimal during the day and especially at night.

"You haven't tossed that frightening blanket?" Draco asked with revolt in his tone as he came up behind her and peered down at his son with a look of pure horror masked on his face.

"I'd like to see you sleep through the night without him having it."

"It's an abomination, Granger. It's positively disgusting. Besides, you're setting our son up for an unhealthy attachment to an inanimate object. As he grows, he may not want to part with it. He'll be one of those awkward children who refuse to leave home without it clutched in his grip."

Hermione pushed her brows together and craned her neck to see Draco's troubled and pensive expression. "Are you speaking from experience or are you making an assumption? Or both?"

"I'm-" he started, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Because I can certainly see you were definitely one of those awkward children who somehow Sticky Charmed themselves to their favorite toy. Knowing you, however, I'm not so sure it was a toy. It was your mother, wasn't it?" She smiled flippantly up at him and was surprised to find his face devoid of emotion and his eyes callously hard.

"I'll see you in the morning." He walked towards the door. "I'll sleep on the couch. I assume the extra blankets are still-"

"Malfoy," she called after him, guessing she hit a sore spot with him. She had forgotten how sensitive he was about his parents. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean it demeaning in any way. A lot of children, if they could, would stick themselves to their mothers."

He didn't spare her a glance but left the room and she hastily followed after him down the hallway. "Draco, come back."

When he stopped by the living room, he whirled around and gripped her arms and kissed her deeply. She muffled a 'what the hell' into his mouth and he snickered into hers. When he broke the kiss, he waggled his brows and smugly bragged, "I got you to come into the living room."

"Git," she spat and went to go back to her room, but he kept her there with grasp on her arms.

"Tut, tut, Granger. None of that now. Presents first and then we can shag."

"Presents?"

He gestured with his head for her to look to the right, and her tiny, artificial Christmas tree gleamed in the dimly lit room. Refusing to use to money Draco left her, she had gathered a few of her remaining coins and purchased a small Christmas tree as a present for herself to have some holiday cheer in the flat. A huge chunk of her remaining money had been soaked dry from diapers, formula, baby clothes and anything Alex needed. Draco's offering of further financial stability in the future had been incredibly tempting. Unless she immediately found a job, she was not going to be able make it through the second week in January. And then if she did get employment, she would have to pay a caregiver for Alex, and Merlin knew how much that would cost.

Eyes dampening at the space beneath the Christmas that had been empty, her chin trembled at the boxes of perfectly wrapped gifts placed underneath and beside the tiny tree.

Something large and uncovered by festive wrappings caught her eye from the corner, and her breath hitched in emotional excitement.

A baby pram. Draco got her and Alex a pram.

"Dra-" she began but cut off shortly, deciding to throw her arms around his neck and brutally smash her lips against his unexpected ones. She climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. And had he always been without a shirt? Mmmm! His skin was nice. Certainly, motherhood had not morphed her into a complete asexual being or completely immune to the attractive man who gave her a baby. How had she not noticed his lack of attire?

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hey! :) Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favorited this fic!

Thank you to: **BeWhoYouAre99, Jordana Babe, starlight-x-A-x, Vaneesa85, Angel Girl5, roseberrygirl, sm, and doomsday2012 **for the reviews.

To **amama123**: I didn't answer your question in your last review. I'm sorry but no, the fic is not really a love triangle. There might be some jealousy and such down the line, though.

To **BeWhoYouAre99**: There will be some Narcissa and Lucius interaction within the next couple of chapters. As for what inspired me to write the story...I like to read Dramione fics as much as the next shipper (as long as they're good). However, I find many plots to be repetative and predictable. I like to write things I have not seen a lot of or not seen at all. There are a lot of idealistic, happy ending fics out there, and I wanted to write something the exact opposite without getting really dark. So...I killed Draco and was very careful on how I did it. I didn't want him to be murdered, be involved in a horrible accident, or have suffered a long-lasting illness before dying. So I had the abrupt aneurism in mind and wanted Draco to have a child with Hermione no one else knew about. I wrote a plot with those key factors. *shrugs* And that's pretty much it.

Thank you to **all reviewers** for your sweet comments. I cherish them all!

**Warning**: This chapter does have a little M-ish stuff to it. It also ends abruptly and not really on a cliff hanger so...it's kind of awkward. So sorry. Also, you will come to notice that only Draco will call his son Scorpius, and everyone else will call him Alex. (Just in case there is confusion) Anyway, enjoy the chapter and R&R, please!

* * *

_A baby pram. Draco got her and Alex a pram._

_"Dra-" she began but cut off shortly, deciding to throw her arms around his neck and brutally smash her lips against his unexpected ones. She climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. And had he always been without a shirt? Mmmm! His skin was nice. Certainly, motherhood had not morphed her into a complete asexual being or completely immune to the attractive man who gave her a baby. How had she not noticed his lack of attire?_

Her lips traveled to his cheek, chin, throat and the slope of his neck where she nibbled at the skin and breathed in his scent, thinking he smelt like bitter cold pine nuts and heady, spicey soap. She pulled away only slightly to grimace at him, their noses brushing. "You smell odd."

His eyes narrowed in offense and curled his lips at her comment. "You don't smell like a bed of roses, either."

"I just don't like your soap. Or is cologne? And I smell fine, thank you very much."

"Blaise gave me cologne for Christmas. He said it attracts females by the hundreds. When I get back to England, I'm going to call out his lie. Besides, you smell like baby vomit."

"Yet you still want to shag me," Hermione haughtily replied, the pram catching her eye again, and she melted into his body once more and pecked him on the lips, poking the tip of her tongue at his bottom lip to tell him she could be persuaded for a post-midnight shag-fest if he was still interested in having a go.

"Minx," he rasped and travelled his hands from the middle of her back where he was holding her, and then to her bum. He squeezed her with a very unattractive grunt and leered at her. "I love your arse."

Tempted to toss back a reproving retort, Hermione denied her verbal-sparring instincts, mating instincts overruling her mind and body. So she gifted him a small, shy smile and combed her fingers through his hair.

"Naughty witch, don't you dare give me that innocent face. I know better," Draco purred and slowly walked towards the sofa and carefully sat down with Hermione straddling him.

Situating more comfortably on his lap, rubbing up against him and enjoying his scathing, tortured looks at her, her combing fingers skimmed to the nape of his neck and lightly scraped her nails over his hairline. Oh yes, two days with him eleven months prior, and she knew where all of his weak spots were. His smirk turned gooey, and his eyes projected promise of retribution.

"I love your baby," she said and watched in excited fascination as his gaze turned cloudy and his tongue poked out to wet his lips. His hands left her bum and came around her front, and she thought he was going to cup her through her shirt but instead rested his fingers on the split material below her collar. He rubbed the soft, fuzzy material between his forefingers and thumbs before bunching it and pulling it in opposite directions.

Hermione jolted and flinched at the clangorous rip and the flying buttons zooming at her retinas, and then glared at Draco.

"Excuse me!" she hissed at the stupid man who cost her warm, semi-pricey shirt. Said stupid man was not even looking at her face but at what he exposed. "How dare you rip my shirt? I am broke, mind you, and this was my only pair of warm pajamas! What do you have to say for yourself?!"

Still not sparing her face a glance, he said to her chest, "I'm a bit peckish."

His response was unexpected and sent Hermione's heart into her tummy and an embarrassed flush to her skin. She nibbled on her bottom lip and cast her vision towards the kitchen where there was only a few boxes of Muggle macaroni and cheese, one or two packets of Top Ramen, a nearly scraped clean jar of peanut butter, and baby formula. She had unplugged the refrigerator days ago because there was nothing in it, and she could not afford to put anything in it, so she saved the electricity for someone else. However, she had planned to purchase some milk Christmas Eve morning at the market down the street, but on her way there, a frail and elderly man adorned in patchy rags was begging anyone who came across his path for a spare plinket, tinner, or dockel. He had looked cold, and she had wondered why he had not casted a Warming Charm upon himself but quickly figured out why when the man who was being begged from pushed the beggar to the snowy ground and called him a despicable squib. As careful as she could with Alex in the baby-sling, she jogged towards the beggar and cast a Warming Charm on him. She then extended her hand with what she hoped was a trusting smile. He smiled sadly at her but took her hand anyway. Quickly, she replaced her hand with a sickle and two dockels, and asked if he was alright, if the fall had injured him in anyway. His grim smile turned into a beam of gratitude, and a tear escaped down his whiskery cheek and rasped out a 'thank you

But the point was Draco would disprove of her lack of food in the kitchen. He was probably used to grand and extravagant Christmas meals consisting of a gargantuan, juicy roasted goose and potatoes with Yorkshire pudding and with melt-in-the mouth fresh, hot bread. He would be utterly unimpressed with her 'just add water' noodle cups.

"Oh. Umm….Well, if you want to wait until the morning, we can go out for breakfast. I-I hear that Madam Putman makes delicious English breakfasts. She's just around the corner." Of course, the meal would be entirely dependent on him because Madam Putman charged an arm and a leg and sometimes a first born for a dish at her establishment.

"I'm hungry now."

"Oh," Hermione softly whispered and wondered if Draco was up to taking a trip to Muggle Salem because nowhere in the Magical was open yet because of the hols. She also wondered how Draco would feel about dining in a Denny's.

"I don't really have anything you'd like," Hermione admitted and was purposefully vague.

"I doubt that," he murmured and Hermione shrieked when he pressed his hands forcefully into her upper back and bent her backwards in his lap. He latched onto her throat and scraped his teeth across her skin and downwards, his famished mouth in search for something. It dawned on Hermione that he was hungry for fleshy sex and not food. When his mouth latched onto something else and stayed there, she realized she was half-right and half-wrong.

A mix between being horror struck and arousal swirled throughout her as she stuttered out, "P-Pervert."

* * *

Hermione stirred awake at the feeling of something wet and sort of sharp feasting on her neck. She sucked in a breath and yawned and moaned in irritation from being woken up. Her eyes focused and saw her tiny Christmas tree a few feet away with the unopened presents placed underneath. A few inches from her head was the baby pram. Sleepily, she smiled at it. A few weeks ago, she had gone shopping for one and was displeased to find the prices were atrocious— for a good one, that is. There were some cheap ones, but Hermione was not going to fork out any amount of currency for something that would last merely a week.

Oh, she couldn't wait to put Scorpius in it and go for a stroll around the town! She'd bundle him up and get the bottles ready because he needed at least four. And maybe Draco would want to come and-

She hurriedly rolled over and connected her lips to his in one vast motion, and she felt him grin against her mouth. He snaked his arm around her shoulders, and she did the same around his neck.

_A little while later…_

"Merlin, why did I ever let you leave?" Draco muffled into her shoulder and then planted a smooch. He propped his head up with his hand and leered at Hermione causing her to feel a tad shy lying naked in post-coital glory on the living room floor. "I should have kept you, Granger. I should have locked you up in my room, tied you to the bed, and kept you for my own pleasure. I should have never returned you to Potter. I shouldn't have let you leave. What can I do to persuade you to come home with me?"

"Nothing," she whispered as Draco toyed with one of her many curls sticking stubbornly out from her scalp.

"I don't like having you and Scorpius far away."

"Let's not talk about this now." Hermione rose into a sitting position and stretched her arms above her head, pops and cracks snapping from her sleep incrusted limbs. She glanced at the clock on the wall and knew Alex would be up in a few minutes demanding to be nursed. "I need to get ready for the day. I want to take the baby on a jaunt in his new pram. And Draco, it's perfect. Thank you so much."

"There are other presents, love." Draco chuckled and gestured to the rapped boxes.

"I'm sure Alex will love them."

"They're not just for him. I got some for you."

"I don't need anything," Hermione lied. She'd take the pram because that was all her pride would accept.

"Oh, so you don't want this?" Draco reached over to the pile and retrieved a gift, and her eyes narrowed. It was a book, she knew it. She'd sense a novel, tomb, and or manuscript if it was buried deep within the earth below her.

"What kind of book is it?" The words spilled out of her mouth, and Draco cocked an impressed eyebrow at her assumption.

"You'll like it. I know that," he said with a complacent grin and teased her by waving the present in front of her. "The thing is, Granger, you open it, it's yours. You can't give it back." Beat. "Not that you will.'

Hermione licked her lips and studied the wrapped book with intensity, willing her mind to try and see past the barrier. Unfortunately, she failed but anticipation bubbled up within her. She really, really wanted to see what book it was. Maybe it was a parenting book—a guide for new parents on what to expect after birth. She had read a few in the library a few blocks away, but she yearned for one of her own.

Her fingers itched to steal the present from Draco's paws as he playfully zoomed the package like an aeroplane close to her face. She wringed her hands and pressed her lips together painfully.

"Hmm. Your tenacity is appraisable. You have more self-control than you did in school. Perhaps I should open it for you. I do believe once you've seen what I have bestowed you, you will not let me leave back to England with it."

"It can't be that spectacular," Hermione argued, more to herself than him.

"But it can be," he sang teasingly and poked a hole into the wrapping paper. She snatched it from him with a growl and tore it open, her eyes zeroing in on the title, fingers tightening around the book with each read word.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Hermione licked her lips hungrily at the book cover and gently placed _Hogwarts, A History: First Edition_ on the floor to rest on the discarded wrappings before lunging at Draco and knocking them both to the floor, peppering kisses all over his arrogant face.

A sob echoed down the hall, and Hermione jumped up to her feet and ran towards the sound, leaving Draco back in the living room with a spectacular view of her naked rump. She returned with Alex in her arms, and he was clutching at his breakfast source with greedy hands and mouth. Lowering to the carpet, she rested her back against the sofa facing the presents and sat next to Draco who was leaning his head back against the seat cushion with a content smile on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked.

"This is nice. You. Me. Shagged senseless and unashamedly naked with a grunting babe in the living room. A perfect Boxing Day morning." And then his belly growled and laughed. "Well, almost. Definitely could use a spot of breakfast. We could open up the blinds for all of Magical Salem to see us in our starkers whilst having some eggs and sausage."

Hermione cringed at him for three reasons. One, his double entendre. Two, she had no food that would accommodate. Three, she really wanted some eggs and sausage, too. Great Morgana, what she wouldn't do for a slice of bacon and a glass of chocolate milk.

"What do you have in the pantry?" he asked and then frowned. "You're a girl, right? You can cook."

Hermione shot daggers at him and stuck out her chin. "Spot on, Malfoy. I am a girl. I had no idea you had doubts considering what happened only minutes ago in front of the Christmas tree. As for cooking…I do what I can…if I have…things."

"Things? Like food? Or simply certain kinds of food?"

"Yes."

"…Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"You have food in the kitchen, yes? I hope to think your new figure is because of the aerobics classes I paid for, not because you can't afford to eat, which you can because I gave you money before I left." His voice had turned sharp at the last of his words, and the mood changed considerably in the room. Gone was the lusty, playful family fest. It was replaced by a building storm circling over Draco's head.

"Don't be ridiculous. I eat," she snorted out. "I have to, Malfoy. I'm breastfeeding."

Draco slit his eyes at her like he was trying to detect a lie in her voice or behavior. He was very careful with his next questions. "How often do you eat? And what are you eating?"

"Draco…" Hermione said with a forced smile. "I'm fine. The baby's fine."

Draco ignored her and stood up, walking over to the kitchen. Hermione scrambled after him, clutching the baby tight as to not greatly disturb him. Alex hated being bounced about. He whimpered into her bosom, so she stopped to adjust him and gently walked into the kitchen after Draco who was scowling in her near empty cupboards.

"You have no food," he stated icily and slammed the cupboard shut, and Alex unlatched his mouth from her breast and let out a high pitched shriek. She maneuvered him in an upright position with his head resting against her shoulder, making sure he had his fist in close range to his mouth for comfort all the while glaring at Malfoy.

"That was unnecessary!" she hissed. "You don't need to lose your temper."

Ignoring her, Malfoy stomped over to the fridge and flung open the door and then closed it with a bang, the box rocking with vibrations and the loud sound causing Alex's wails to increase in volume.

"You have no food!" Draco repeated, only harsher.

"I have food, Malfoy! Now stop acting like a child! You're upsetting the baby. He doesn't like loud noises and will probably be fussy all day and not eat."

"He can be like his mother then." He charged back over to the cupboards and yanked them open and picked up a box of macaroni and cheese. "You call this food."

"If you add the right ingredients, it tastes fine," Hermione countered.

"And do you have those? Where?" Not waiting for answer, he chucked the box across the kitchen and against the wall, the cardboard splitting at the side and spilling noodles everywhere.

Alex sobbed into his fist, and Hermione deeply considered telling Malfoy to leave. His temper was scaring their son, and she did not want him to be in a snit all day. Alex was so sensitive with his own comfort and did not like to be disturbed while eating, napping, soiling his diaper, and staring at nothing in particular. Because he was only six weeks old, Hermione was going to do everything she could to make sure he was a content and happy baby. That was her comfort, and Draco was putting a damper in it, too.

"I know you just woke up, Button, but I'm going to lay you down anyway, mkay?" Hermione softly said to Alex and left Malfoy alone with his tantrum to keep him company for a bit. She walked down the hallway and into her bedroom, laying the baby down in his bassinet and securing him in the Charmed blanket and popping his beloved binky in his mouth.

"You're such a sweet boy. Mummy loves you so much. I just have to go and hurt Daddy a little bit because he's acting like a git." Smooch!

Before returning to the kitchen, Hermione slipped on one of the silk robes that Draco got her six weeks prior, the light blue one instead of the green. She didn't want him to think he was going to get another shag out of her.

"If you think you're going to get another shag out of me, Granger, you should have worn the green one," Draco spat while he rested a palm on the useless refrigerator when she reentered the kitchen

"I'm good actually." Hermione shrugged, keeping her voice calm and cool while shuffling over to a corner cupboard. From where she stood, it looked empty but she stuck her hand in and waved it about, her fingers colliding with some paper pouches. She showed Draco it and offered, "Would you like some hot apple cider? All is needed is a bit of hot water."

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

_"If you think you're going to get another shag out of me, Granger, you should have worn the green one," Draco spat while he rested a palm on the useless refrigerator when she reentered the kitchen_

"I'm good actually." Hermione shrugged, keeping her voice calm and cool while shuffling over to a corner cupboard. From where she stood, it looked empty but she stuck her hand in and waved it about, her fingers colliding with some paper pouches. She showed Draco it and offered, "Would you like some hot apple cider? All is needed is a bit of hot water."

"I'd prefer tea," he venomously told her

I can't afford tea, Hermione said in her mind, but told Draco, "I've decided to not drink tea whilst breastfeeding. My Healer said it was possible the caffeine could contaminate my breast milk, causing disruption in Alex's sleep pattern and heart rhythm."

She heard a snort as she filled a tiny pot with some water, and then she placed it over the stove and turned on the flames.

"Where's the cheque I gave you?" Draco asked. "I put it right here on the refrigerator. It's not here now, and I know you didn't use it. Where is it?"

He came up beside her, his mouth very close to her ear. She glanced his away just a smidgen and looked up under his chin and then back at the pot of water. "I put it into an account."

"It was for you to spend, Granger. You don't need to save it."

"I'm not saving it for me. I'm saving it for Alex."

Despite Draco not actually touching her, she felt him go rigid. He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. His vicious, unrelenting gaze hammered into her and she caved with annoyed grunt.

"I put it into an account for his schooling. There is a new school for pre-wand children opening up next year. It will be for children four to eleven years old, and I want him to attend when he is of age. The tuition will be outrageously expensive because it's going to be one of three pre-wand schools in the world; therefore, I placed the money into an account. I have no regrets, and if needs be, I will scrap every last dockel I can get my hands on and put it into the account."

Hermione turned away from him and back to her near boiling water like she was uninterested on what Draco would have to say to that. Not wanting the water too hot, she turned off the flames and then poured in the cider powder.

She grabbed a whisk from the nearby drawer and began to thoroughly stir the hot cider, and she heard Draco ask, "Why are you being this way?"

"I haven't an idea as to what you are insinuating, Draco," she lied, her heart ramming into her chest, scared because he would find out how badly she wanted his financial help and terrified if he should offer again, she would accept.

To busy herself away from Draco's gaze, she fished out two cups from the cupboard and poured the steaming cider into both of them and handed one to Draco who look like he accepted out of instinct rather than want. He glared at her and then placed the cup on the counter as she blew some cool puffs of air on hers.

"You're hungry, Hermione," he told her.

At the moment, she was. Indeed, the cider was only going to mask the hunger pangs for an hour or so, but dammit, Draco just chucked her second to last box of macaroni and cheese. Yes, she was starving, but she ate. She had food. Not a lot, but she was able to eat three meals a day. They weren't delicious nor were they satisfying and were often repetitive, but she was alive and nourished.

"Not in the way you think," she said with honesty and Draco's frown deepened and then walked passed her, purposefully not touching her. She turned to watch him leave out of the kitchen and stalk down the hallway. She followed after him and saw him pull up his trousers.

"You're leaving," she stated with a slight nod, her right side pressing into the doorframe. A sullen, discarded feeling washed over her as Draco zipped up his pants and went in search for his socks. There was a small part of herself she began to hate for making him angry enough to leave.

While searching for his sock's mate, Draco spared her a glance and stopped what he was doing and sighed heavily, his head dropping low to hang. "Don't look at me like that, Granger."

"I'm not looking at you in any particular way, Malfoy," she said and folded her arms protectively beneath her chest. He could leave. Why should she care? He was going to leave anyway.

A soft, sarcastic chuckle slipped out of lips and went towards Hermione and brought the back of his hand up to her cheek where he brushed his knuckles over the skin before pressing a slightly cupped palm into the side of her face. His hand was mildly cool against her cheek and she could feel the pressure kind of squishing her face as thumb brushed over her lips.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "I thought you were leaving."

Draco bent his head down and pressed his forehead against hers and rubbed them together. "I hate it when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I hurt you. You'd do it at school, and…Merlin, you have no idea how badly it killed me."

Memories of Hogwarts and Draco's tendency to bully her refreshed in her mind and anger bubbled hotly within her. How dare he bring something like that up and claim it hurt him when it was he who hurt her? If it killed him so badly, why had he persisted to verbally assault her?

"I find that hard to believe. You were exceptional at hurting me, Malfoy, and you did often. How could you have not enjoyed it?"

"No," he shook his head, the sensation feeling odd against Hermione's forehead. "You don't understand. It wasn't like that. I did it because-""If you say because you secretly wanted me, then I'll give you one minute to leave before I ensure Alex will be all that is left of you."

"Not at first," Draco said as if his posterity wasn't on the line. "But then your arse got really-"

"Unbelievable," Hermione scoffed and tried to pull away, but Draco grabbed her arms. She wrenched out of his grasp and hissed, "You go on about how sad you are about making me sad, but all you are concerned about is hurting a pretty girl's feelings!"

Draco clenched his teeth together and grabbed her arms again to keep her from wandering away. She struggled against his strength and nearly got away once more, so he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face towards his and smashed their lips together. His fingers wrapped around her curls and tugged harshly causing Hermione to whine in pain into his mouth. She pushed at his chest and disconnected their lips and slapped him crisp and loudly. His fingers flew to his cheek and he stepped back in shock, his eyes wide before narrowing and dilating. His mouth twisted into a feral grin, and out of apprehensiveness, Hermione took a step back towards the hallway. She did not get far, for Draco lunged at her, his body dipping low with his shoulder colliding into her stomach and his arms wrapping around the backs of her thighs. She was lifted and tossed over his shoulder and dangled awkwardly with her face colliding with his naked back.

"Draco!" she yelled.

He silenced her with a slap on the rear and marched towards the bed. She squirmed and whimpered when she figured out his destination.

"Y-You're going to force me," she stuttered out. "With the baby right here?"

He threw her on the bed like a sack of flour with a grunt, and her body bounced with the section of the cushion, the impact nocking the wind out of her.

"Think I'm a monster, do you?" he growled as she scrambled away from him and closer to the pillows. The anger in his face dissolved and something sparked in his eyes. "You do, don't you? That's why you didn't stay with me or contact me after our weekend, wasn't it? It's why you won't accept the money for yourself. It's why you won't come home with me or marry me. You just see me as a Death Eater."

Floored by his words, Hermione could not think of anything to say. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but a vague squeak originating from the back of her throat. Without being able to restrain herself, her eyes traveled to his left forearm where the somewhat faded Dark Mark dwelt. And yes, her stomach twinged at the thought that she had let someone who bore the Mark of Tom Riddle hold her child. Regardless that the someone was her baby's father.

"I'll leave you alone," Draco whispered and summoned his scattered clothes to surround him. The missing sock hung suspended in the air, and he grabbed it. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing her. She saw the resignation in his hunched shoulders, and her womanly instinct roared at her to comfort the wounded man who was near. She crawled over to him and rested her cheek on the area of skin above and between his shoulder blades.

"I don't think you're a monster, Malfoy," she said and then smooched him where her cheek had been. His body stilled, and she crawled to his side and rose up on her knees kissed him again, this time on his cheek and then whispered in his ear, "I don't…I don't care for monsters," and fit the lobe between her top and bottom front teeth and tugged and brought her hand to the back of his neck and scraped the base of his skull with her fingernails. His breath turned ragged and the tenseness of his shoulders relaxed, and she knew she had him. Carefully, with little but pointed pressure, she pressed on his shoulders to indicate she wanted him to lay back. Unsurprisingly, he resisted at first, but she planted soft kisses over his face with breathy whispered secrets. She told him why she didn't contact him after he returned her to Harry eleven months prior. She told him why she didn't want to accept the money. She told him why she couldn't marry him and come home with him.

When he was flat on his back with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, she whispered one last secret to him.

"I think I love you."

Not waiting for his reply, she kissed him fully on the mouth.

They had spent the rest of the morning in bed until both of their hunger overwhelmed them. Draco dragged her and Alex, swaddled and snugged in his new pram, to the market where he bought her food. Not wanting to upset him again, she watched as he piled the cart high as they zigzagged their way through the aisles. However, she did try to sneak a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese into the cart much to Draco's annoyance. He had wanted her to put them back, so she promised she would cook for him when they returned to the apartment, silencing him for the rest of the shopping trip.

Back at the flat, with the food put away and the refrigerator plugged in, Hermione readied some boiling water and fifteen minutes later she force-fed Draco boxed macaroni and cheese. He ate it with a frown and did have seconds but more out of hunger than likability. As for her, she only had one bowl because she wanted save a little room for the ice cream Draco bought her. It was strawberry with frozen fruit chunks. She would have much rather preferred chocolate as did he, but her Healers had told her to steer away from it while breastfeeding

While Alex had his third nap for the day, Hermione and Draco ate straight out of the ice cream carton.

"This is good. Thank you," she told him through bites of the dessert. He said nothing in return. In fact, he said minimal to her since she told him she thought she loved him. And it was just so typical of him. Beg her, he would to come back to England. Beg her to marry him. Beg her to have him pay for everything, but when she turned around and said something as equally as committing, he turned into an awkward and frightened child.

"When do you have to leave?" she asked.

"Soon," he replied. "Tonight."

Hermione nodded and took one last bite of her ice cream and set her spoon aside, hoping she did not appear dejected.

"I'm not sure when I'll be able to visit again," Draco continued. "But I'll leave you some money. I'll send you some, as well."

"I don't-"

Draco cut her off with a glare. "You will accept the money, and you will spend it on the things you need. Scorpius I can provide for, and you need not worry about his schooling. If you want him to attend this new school when he is of age, I will pay for the tuition."

"That's not right, Draco." Hermione shook her head with a troubled frown. "It's not right for you to pay for everything. I can get a job. I can-"

"I'm sure you could and when I leave, I won't be able to stop you. I suspect eventually you will go in search for employment, but right now I want you to focus on raising our son, Hermione. While doing that, you can take to your studies and ready yourself when you return to school. Unless of course, you'd prefer to become employed immediately, hire a caretaker for Scorpius, and have him miss his mother."

"There are a lot of mothers who have to work, Malfoy," Hermione replied hotly. "There are loads of mums who miss their children."

"And you choose to be one?" Draco's eyebrow's arched in inquiry. "You don't have to be. You do realize it was not only you in my apartment eleven months ago. I was there, too. It was I who fumbled the Contraceptive Charm as you so eloquently reminded me in the letter you sent me when you decided to tell me of your then delicate state."

"To which you so eloquently replied that I was a liar and to never contact you again. So I never asked, but what made you decide to just show up and be there at the perfect time when I was in the hospital? Hmm?"

Draco shrugged and pursed his lips. "Good instincts."

"Right," Hermione said lightly, not believing him. "So you didn't check up on me at all? A man like you probably has contacts in all the right places. You probably dropped a name and a favor."

"You know me well, Granger."

"Unfortunately."

About three in the afternoon, Draco left, vaguely saying he would visit again soon. He kissed Alex goodbye and walking out the door, he asked Hermione to reconsider returning to England with him.

"Ten minutes we can have everything packed up and in our pockets and be home in a half hour."

"I am home, Draco," Hermione said.

Nodding without a reply, Draco left the flat with Hermione standing in the living room staring at the door wondering if she would really ever see him again. If he would really visit once more. He promised to send money, making her comply with his request to spend it on herself.

Biting her lips and wringing her hands, she looked towards the still unopened presents resting besides the small tree, a sad but wistful smile on her lips.

Present day

"Is it good?" Hermione asked with a bowl of untouched macaroni and cheese in front of her. Luna nodded slowly with her mouth full, Alex smiled toothily with torn yellow noodles sticking out of his mouth, Nathaniel gave her a thumbs up, and Nathaniel's father winked at her.

"It's a pleasure to be having you two over for dinner," Hermione politely said to the boy and his father. "If I had known I would be serving a full house, I would have made something a bit more..."

"Nonsense, Miss Granger. You make the best macaroni in Salem."

"Thank you, Mr. Li." She smiled through painfully pressed lips at her son's best friend's dad.

"We should make this a tradition," he said and looked at everyone with a nod like he was willing them to agree with him. "Every Friday night is Macaroni Night at the Grangers. We could even swap off. Sushi Night at mine on Saturdays. What do you say?"

Hermione heard, "Every Friday night is Macaroni Night at the Grangers. Come over to my place on Saturday nights where I can get you drunk, and we can have sex with our kids playing Exploding Snap just down the hallway like we did that one time. Remember? What do you say?"

"That would be fun!" exclaimed Alex and Nathaniel nodded eagerly.

"I'll think about it," Hermione said and received a secret smile form Luna.

While Alex and Nathaniel chatted through the rest of the dinner while the adults ate in silence, Hermione dodging the prominent and pointed stares from Mr. Li.

After dinner, Hermione sent the Mr. Li and the boys to entertain themselves while she and Luna chatted in the kitchen as they tidied up.

"You didn't eat," her friend commented.

"I'm not hungry," she replied.

"You didn't have lunch, either."

"I'm not hungry," Hermione repeated truthfully, knowing if she put anything in her stomach, it would come back up.

"Mr. Li is nice."

"You've said that before," Hermione said as she pointed her wand at the wet but clean dishes to dry them. "And he is."

"He's very handsome."

"He is."

"Loves his son. Good with yours. Good with kids."

With a wave of her wand, the dishes were back in the cupboard and Hermione sighed and gave Luna a 'my patience is deteriorating' look. "Yes."

Luna shrugged. "He's lonely. You are, too."

"I just got horrible news today, Luna," Hermione whispered out, her throat swelling thickly with emotion. "I'm not really in the mood for a shag."

Her friend gave her an expression of sorrow but her endeared expression remained beneath the frown lines. "But someday you will be."

"Someday is not today. Definitely not tomorrow. It won't be for like…ever." Hermione rubbed her forehead and sucked in a sharp breath. "Maybe you're the one that's lonely."

Hermione regretted the words once they fell from her mouth and went to apologize but Luna stared down at her shoes and said, "I think I'll leave. I'll see you tomorrow at the party."

Hermione watched her Disapparate without saying a word. She supposed she could have apologized, but her pride and anguish was clogging her brain. And bloody hell, sex with Mr. Li was not going to make her feel better. It would feed the Feindfyre of guilt she had inside her chest and make her internally combust. Because, yes, Draco Malfoy's death was tragic and would fill her soul with regrets and emotionally damage Alex for the rest of his life, most likely. But the memory of their last time together whirled around in her head. It had been Easter, and they had not parted on preferable terms.

Biting down on the tip of her thumb to draw away the stinging attention from her tear ducks, she shuffled into the living room and was greeted with Alex and Nathaniel roughhousing with Mr. Li instructing them on how to do it properly without either boy getting seriously injured. He caught her eye and smiled with a glitter of hope twinkling in his eye.

"Miss Granger, I'm sorry to hear Alex's father won't be coming tomorrow for his birthday. He's always such a…character."

Shocked, Hermione opened her mouth to say something. Not entirely sure as what, but say something, she would have, but Alex piped in dramatically as he lay pinned beneath Nathaniel, "I hate it! He always comes to my birthday! Always! What's so freakin' important, anyway?"

No one answered him, but Hermione didn't really think he was looking for one.

"Play nice, boys," Hermione commented as the two almost eight year olds wrestled a bit more before she resided in the kitchen, Mr. Li close behind her. When they were out of earshot, she twirled on her foot to face him and put a hand to his chest and gave him a strained smile. He looked down at her and then kept it there on his shirt with one of his own.

"I feel the same way," he chuckled out and she scoffed and stole her hand back.

"Mr. Li-"

"I think after almost two years of being your neighbor, you can call me Brandon."

"You call me Miss Granger," Hermione hastily pointed out and instantly bit her tongue from saying something stupid.

"You know why I call you that. Because it sounds naughty. Is that why you still call me-"

"No."

His shoulders slumped but his face made no indication he was ready to stop talking. "I want to take you out on a date. A real date."

"Now is really not a good time," Hermione answered spryly, having expected this from Mr. Li and was prepared for it.

"Well, I know now isn't but like…next Saturday. Dinner? Movie? I know you watch movies. You're not one of those witches who are all, 'what are movies?'"

"I know what you meant. Presently and futuristically, dates—real or not— are not going to happen."

"You like me, though," he stated, and Hermione refrained from letting out a chortled scoff and set her sights on a far corner to calm herself before looking back at Mr. Li. Indeed, he was likable. He was a genuinely good man, a great father, a spectacular neighbor, handsome, and a decent shag from what she could recollect from that embarrassing quickie months and months before. But the sun was set. It was nearly eight o' clock. The worst day of her life was winding down quickly to the second worst day of her life, and Mr. Li wanted to get into her knickers again and probably stay there because a man like him was looking for Mummy material. Really he was. She would not be surprised if he told her there and then to make things easier on both of them and hunt for a bigger house where they and their two children could fit. He wanted a wife, and Hermione was just realizing maybe she would like to have been one, too.

Just not Mr. Li's.

Which was very sad for him because his ex-wife hadn't wanted to be his wife, either.

Her throat began to swell again and her eyes began to burn uncontrollably. Face crumpling, she placed her hands on Mr. Li's shoulders and directed her blurred vision onto his concerned face. "I found out today that Alex's father has passed, and I would really appreciate it if you could pretend to have platonic feelings towards me for as long as you can."


	12. Chapter 12

Narcissa paced her room in the inn, every few seconds glancing at the clock on the wall. Blaise had left hours ago, nearly eight or so to go to the school. He did tell her he would not return to the inn without the identity or at least a lead on the child Draco had fathered, but her impatience was waning thin. Blaise was a smart, conniving individual. How could he have not had a simple lead, yet?

A knock on the door tore her from her musings, and she sprinted towards the door, catching a glimpse of Blaise in the peephole. Opening the door quickly, she greeted him with expectancy.

"So…what do you have?" she asked breathlessly and then took in his appearance. He leaned forward and to the side, resting his forehead on the doorframe with a frustrated yet miserable expression slouching his handsome features.

"What's the matter?" And then she caught of whiff of alcohol on his breath. "Are you drunk?"

"Afraid so. Made a stop at the bar down stairs." He smiled ruefully and brushed passed her, shirking his vest in the process and dropping it carelessly on the floor. He pulled at his tie and went straight to the bar and started rifling through the chilled box most likely looking for another drink.

"What happened?" Narcissa asked with concern and followed him to the bar to yank the bottle of Firewhiskey out of his hands. "Did you…Did you…" she tried to ask but quite sure as to what she should be asking. Blaise was drunk and miserable looking which could be for any reason. He didn't find the child. He did find the child. He could be feeling the lingering feeling of loss from Draco's death.

Blaise messaged his forehead and sighed resignedly.

"I'm guessing you had no luck today. That's okay, Sweetheart," she tried to comfort and rubbed his hand gently. "There's still tomorrow, the next day, and the one after that. The school is big as is the town. It'll take a few days. Tomorrow, I'm sure-"

"I found him," he croaked and stole his hand away from the woman he considered more of a mother than his own. He pressed his fingers into the troubled creases of his face and exhaled gravely.

"Pardon?" Narcissa asked.

Blaise uncovered his face, now appearing sullen but unnaturally sober. "I found him. It's a boy."

A bubble of something almost foreign rose up within Narcissa. Something she hadn't felt in a quite some time. For the past six weeks, all she had been able to truly feel was devastation, loss, sadness, and fury. To experience something else was unique but not entirely unwelcome.

"A boy? Is he…Is he…" What did she want to ask? A million things but where to start?

A tragic mix of affection and defeat colored Blaise's aura. "He looks just like him, Narcissa. He's…He's…"

"He does?" she squeaked. "So you're sure you saw him."

Blaise somberly nodded. "The same hair, the same eyes."

The bubble inside Narcissa was readying to burst. Her throat swelled and her eyes blurred in excitement. Because she was. Now so more than before. If the boy looked just like her Draco, then she wanted to see him, hold him, talk to him, know him.

Shakily, she whispered, "So you saw him. Did you talk to him? What about his mother…" Narcissa's question fell short when Blaise flinched and a mask of rage painted enclosed on upon his face.

"Yeah, I saw her, too." He walked away from the bar and scratched the back of his head, stopping at the window and looked out at Magical Salem.

"And?" Narcissa urged. "Did you recognize her from any of Draco's previous…lady friends?"

"I recognized her," Blaise informed blankly, his eyes still on the city below. "But not as one of Draco's conquests."

"So you know her? Or knew her, I presume? Where from? Back home or somewhere else?"

"She's English, and Lucius' instincts were right. She's a Mud…Muggle-Born."

Narcissa had expected as much, but to hear verification nearly burned her ears. Her thoughts wafted back to her grandson of which she had yet to meet and tried to tell herself his Blood Status didn't matter. He was not filthy but simply a young boy.

"What's her name? Did you talk to her? What did she say?"

"I spoke to her, yes. She was upset about Draco. Very distraught. She happened to be there at the school when I was. I took her home, and she eventually calmed and told me a little about how she and Draco happened and why they never told anyone about Alex. As for her na-"

"Alex? That's his name?" Narcissa asked with a smile. Alexander was a strong, royal name fit for a prince. The boy had been named wisely and _knew_ her son must have named him. "It's a nice name. What's hers? You said she was English and you knew her."

"I will tell you, but before I do, I have to explain we are unwelcome. Alex's mother was upset about Draco and was _kind_ enough to serve me tea and give me some information about her, Draco, and Alex. However," Blaise chuckled bitterly, "she made it clear I was unwelcome." He turned to face Narcissa. "She made it clear you were, too."

As quickly as flame could spark, Narcissa's hopes and joy was drowned by a frigid enragement. She bit down on her tongue to keep from shouting. Yelling at Blaise was not going to solve anything nor was losing her temper. This was not the young man's fault. He had done well that day, but she supposed the rest of her plan was going to have to be put on her shoulders.

Digging deeper into her musings and picking notions apart, Narcissa knew she could not fault Alex's mother, either. The woman built a wall to protect her child from those she deemed untrustworthy. If she truly was an English woman and a Muggle-Born, there was no wondering why she hid the boy away from her and Lucius and the rest of England. It would have been and still would be a scandal if the Wizardry Media caught whiff of it. This was a rather juicy story any carnivorous reporter would salivate over.

"What is her name?" asked Narcissa.

A knock on the door startled them and Blaise went over and peaked through the peephole to see Lucius standing outside the door. He turned to Narcissa mouthing 'your husband,' and she rushed over to turn the knob.

"Lucius, you came."

"I did," he said and entered the room and gave Blaise a firm nod. He removed his travelling gloves and eyed his surroundings with interest.

"It's a suitable inn, isn't it?"

"Hmm, yes," Narcissa said. "What changed your mind?"

Her husband went straight for the bar and found the vintage Firewhiskey she had taken from Blaise, pouring himself a glass before answering. "After you left, I rifled through more of Draco's earlier bank statements with similar patterns. At the beginning of each month, there was an automatic withdraw from his account. Not 1500 galleons worth but enough to know he had not only paid for a child's tuition but was supporting one in other ways. With all honesty, I was rather intrigued. My curiosity overruled me, I guess you can say."

"I'm glad you're here. I knew you would come eventually," Narcissa warmly spoke to her husband. "And you've come at the perfect time. Lucius, we…we have a grandson."

Lucius arched an eyebrow and took a swallow of his drink and then replied, "Do not be so hasty as to put a label on the child, Cissa. And a boy, you said?" The older wizard paused, his eyes heavy with deep consideration but soft enough for his wife to know she saw acceptance in them.

"That's what Blaise has informed me. He saw the boy today."

"Had you?" inquired Lucius to Blaise, who nodded his head grimly.

"I regret to inform you, Mr. Malfoy, though, you and Mrs. Malfoy may not get the opportunity in the near future to meet him."

"And why is that?" Lucius asked in mild alarm.

"She _is _a Muggle-Born, Darling, as she is English. She is aware of our history," explained Narcissa resignedly.

"What is her name? Maybe I can talk to her and sort this all out. I'm sure once we're all in the same room behaving like civilized individuals, negotiation will be in store," Lucius said confidently and turned to Blaise who was eyeing him with heavy dubiety. "Don't you agree?"

"With no disrespect intended, I do not. You see, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you have met her before," the younger wizard said.

"We have?" Narcissa asked while blinking in surprise. "When? I hardly ever converse with any Mu-Muggle-Borns. I haven't spoken to one in years."

Blaise flicked his gaze to Lucius and saw something akin to realization wash over the man. His eyes widened slightly, and the back of his teeth clicked together loudly where his mouth formed a uninviting, disappointed line. He set his drink down and rapped the bottom of his cane against the floorboards before summoning his travelling gloves and tugging them on.

"Lucius," Narcissa started in befuddlement. "Are you leaving? You just got here."

Ignoring his wife's question, he asked Blaise, "Where does Miss Granger live these days?"

"Miss Granger?" She goggled, her brow furrowed. "Hermione Granger? Harry Potter's Mudblood friend from the War? She hasn't been heard from in ages."

"I know," stated a snarling Lucius and glared at Blaise. "Where does she live?"

* * *

"I'm not going to sleep at all tonight!" Alex hopped up and down on his bed, his arms flailing up in the air. He paused his jumping but only to turn around and waggle his bum in his mother's direction. Hermione smiled a miniscule one and walked over to playfully swat her son on his wiggling backside.

"You have to, Alex. Birthday Boys only get birthdays if they go to bed."

Three more hops on his bed and he flung himself at his mother and wrapped his arms around her neck, nearly knocking the wind out of and almost losing her balance at the blow.

"Oomph," she noised and held her boy close to her body and squeezed him firmly as he rested his head on her shoulder. "You're getting too big for Mummy to carry you, Sweetheart. One day I won't be able to hold you like this."

"Then I'll hold you, Mom," he said into her neck in a matter-of-fact tone only a near eight year old could muster. This time she truly grinned, and the sickly, sour knot residing in her chest loosened a smidgen.

Placing Alex back on the bed, she laid him down on his mattress with his dragon printed sheets given as a gift from Draco last Christmas. The dragons varied from origins and were Charmed to fly and breath fire upon making contact with Alex's body. As her son would reside in his bed, the dragons would slowly tire with him and eventually fall asleep when he did.

Once tucking him in, she smoothed his blond curls away from his forehead and kissed him goodnight.

"I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

An hour or so later after putting Alex to bed, Hermione was in the kitchen wrapping the last of his birthday gifts with tears streaming down her face. Every once in a while, she would pause her working fingers and wipe at her cheeks. Her mind was heavy with Draco and her chest ached with heartbreak. She mentally abused herself with 'what if' notions. What if she had accepted his marriage his proposal the first time he asked or even the 72nd time he asked? What if she had gone back with him to England? What if she had squashed her pride and begged him to stay with her in Salem? Would he be here now? Would she be with him? Would she have demanded his constant presence September 25th instead of letting him go play Quidditch with his friends? Would he have still died? Would she ever not feel this way? Would the regret ever leave her?

In the middle of curling the ribbon with a pair of scissors, she heard a knock at the door. She checked the clock with a frown and wondered who would dare bother her after ten o' clock.

Taking a swipe at her cheeks again to clean away the tears, she went to the front door and opened it and her breath hitched at the sight of Lucius Malfoy standing at her doorstep on her welcome mat.

* * *

A/N: Lucius seemed to have jumped to Hermione being a part of Draco's secret rather quickly. It could make you wonder why. *Shrugs with an innocent wink* I suppose we'll know eventually.

Thanks to those who review, follow, and favorite this fic. I appreciate it so much!

Thank you to: **lovemya2000, Jordana Babe, igenac, keyra89, Vanessa85, BeWhoYouAre99** for the reviews. Nice things were said. *Beams happily*

Hope everyone like the chapter, and I always love to hear feedback. R&R, please and tell me your thoughts.


	13. Chapter 13

_Taking a swipe at her cheeks again to clean away the tears, she went to the front door and opened it and her breath hitched at the sight of Lucius Malfoy standing at her doorstep on her welcome mat._

Nausea swirled around Hermione's belly, and she hurriedly closed the door and locked it. He would not be able to enter the house whether she fastened the latch or not. The wards she designed in her house only accepted those she personally invited. Even her son could not spontaneously bring home a new friend.

Hermione sank to her knees and brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs, hating that her safe and happy life was shattering into ugly jagged shards. Building this protective structure around her and her son had taken years to form, to be able to independently provide for him without the help of Draco. Yes, he paid for Alex's schooling but once Hermione had a steady income that could provide or both her and him, she refused Draco's support money. This was her home she paid for, and Alex was hers and she would take care of both as she saw fit.

Another knock on the door, this time louder and more persistent, rang through her ears.

"Miss Granger, open the door and stop acting like a child! We have many things to discuss!" she heard from outside. Pointing her wand, she casted a _Muffliato_ at the door and silenced the knocking and Lucius' voice. She stood up to her feet and cast another Silencing Charm but on the entire house in case the bastard decided to bang on her windows like a creep.

Until all of Alex's presents were wrapped and ready for the next day, Hermione did her best in pretending there was not an ex-Death Eater outside her house. She levitated the presents into her bedroom and placed them in her closet to keep them from Alex's curious eyes.

She readied for the night, slipping into some soft pants and a t-shirt and washed up a tad. Whilst brushing her teeth, she felt a shift in wards like they were being stretched like taffy. She lowered her tooth brush and cinched her brow together and before she realized why, she felt the wards snap. The disintegration of the protective magic hummed across her skin and then dissolved like her whole body had been asleep and was shaking of the tingles.

Hermione's state of wonder lasted but a millisecond before she chucked her tooth brush on the counter, wiped her mouth and ran to her front door, grabbing her wand on the way there. She raised her wand at the door and waited.

How dare that bastard break her wards? How thick was he? The man had pointedly put himself in harms way. Under Magical American Law, she would have the right to do more than simply tattle on him, but Hermione was not looking for blood. Stupid man! She just wanted him, his wife, and Blaise to leave her and Alex alone! Draco was gone, and she had agonizingly accepted it, but she was not going to accept the baggage he left behind. They had not been married and honestly…they hadn't even been together in any sense for quite some time.

Gruffly, Hermione opened the front door having decided not to wait for Draco's father to come stomping in. She was going to face him and maybe even hurt him a little. The law said it was okay.

Her wand was aimed at where she had seen Lucius last, but he was not there this time. Hermione chanced a few steps to the doorframe and looked outside, only seeing specks of snow falling in her front yard and the houses across the street. There was no sign of white hair or snarling anywhere. However, a dark figure standing by a street lamp in front of Mr. Li's house caught her eye. It was not Mr. Li, but someone dressed in trouser, boots, and a hooded jacket, his wand strapped to a holster on his leg.

Swallowing nervously, she slowly closed the door and relocked it. Backing away from the barrier in apprehension before going to the sitting room. She was unsure of what had happened with her wards or where Lucius Malfoy went, but she was going to put up stronger ones that very instant.

Hermione came to a halt when she saw the back of Lucius Malfoy, who was standing at her mantle and observing the photographs of Alex.

How had she not heard him Apparate?

She clenched her fingers together and pressed her back molars into each other when he had the audacity to pick one of the frames up and bring a picture closer to his slit eyes. It was one of her favorites of Alex. He had been one, almost two, and he was dressed up for Halloween as a pumpkin. A felt, soft green stem had been fastened to his blond curls with a strap that slung beneath his chin, and his costume was puffy, cotton filled, orange material. The costume had been completed with green, vine imprinted stockings which had clung to Alex's then chubby baby legs. The picture was completed with him sitting on the ground in the middle of a pumpkin patch and with a pumpkin shaped pacifier wedged snuggly in his mouth. In the photo, he sucked his binky with earnest as he opened and closed his podgy hands at her as she had taken the picture So yes, it was one of her most treasured pictures of her son. And Lucius Malfoy had just put his disgusting Death Eater paws all over it!

Marching up behind him, she yanked the photograph out of his gloved hands and held it protectively to her chest with one arm while her other hand held her wand at the tip of his nose. She watched as his grey eyes narrowed at it with a menacing frown.

"Get out," she told him. "If you don't, it won't go well for you."

The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched, and may have thought her threat amusing, but she was serious. It dawned on her that he may still see her as a silly but smart school girl tagging along with the amazing Harry Potter. A threat from her was as frightening as a threat from a teenage female with her first case of PMS.

If that was what the old codger thought of her, then…Grrr!

"Think I'm speaking in jest, Mr. Malfoy? You," she violently pressed the tip of her wand into his pointed nose and he leaned his head back in perplexity, "destroyed my wards, trespassed into my home, and I have reason to believe my son is in danger. Think I'm just going to throw a simple _Stupefy _at you? Wrong!" Whipping her wand away from his face, she waved it with a swish and flick and a magnificently white, wispy in the shape of a scorpion sprouted from the tip and flew out towards the window, absorbing into the glass and flying out side. Lucius watched the Patronus abandon them with a frown and then jolted when there was the loud pop sound of someone Apparating.

Hermione stepped away from Lucius and cast a forced smile at Samuel who shot him with a _Petrificus Totalus_. The eldest Malfoy fell to the floor and the officer said with a smirk while levitating the body above the floor,

"Got the alert when the wards broke. Got here as fast as I could. Didn't want to hop in, though, until I knew for sure. Truth be told, Miss Granger, I was thinking of a sign less subtle than a Patronus. No harm done, anyhow." The man shrugged his massive shoulders and put his attention back on his suspect. "Trespasser?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a firm nod.

"Ever seen him before?"

She made a show of looking at Lucius' frozen face and then shrugged. "Can't say I have. Officer Paxton. I'm just so glad I put up those recommended alerting wards. They were difficult to do but worth the time and sweat."

"Hmm. Doesn't look like a robber, guessing from his apparel. Rapist, maybe? Did he try to attack you in anyway?"

Hermione debated on whether to tell another lie, so instead she replied, "He never got that far."

"What was he doing when you first saw him?"

"Just…looking at the pictures." She vaguely pointed to the photos of Alex and remembered the one she was holding in her hand. She placed it back on the mantle.

Samuel gave her a dark look and snarled at Lucius' still form. "Could be a child molester."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm at his words and was about to say, "I doubt it," but Samuel scoffed in disgust as two others Apparated inside her living room, both wearing officer badges.

"Take him in. Get some identification and some background information on the perp. Make sure he doesn't see sunlight for a very long time."

Officer Talcott flipped her long wave of her ginger hair and eyed her cuticles with avid interest. "It already looks like he hasn't," she said and then smiled comfortingly at Hermione. "Micah will be at the party tomorrow. Sorry I wasn't able to RSVP on your invite until now. I'll bring my mom's famous salsa. I'm about ninety-eight percent sure it will not be given a second thought by the kids, but I think the adults will like it."

Hermione was asked a few more questions by Samuel before he, the other Aurors, and Lucius Disapperated. When they did, she let out a deep breath, her chin beginning to wobble. She glanced at the clock and it was well after midnight. She wiped at her eyes and sniffled.

Alex had slept through the entire thing. Sometimes small and blessed miracles were known to happen.

* * *

A sharp, blinding ray of light hit Narcissa's eyes when she rolled over on the bed. Groaning in indignation, she opened them slightly and glared at the gaping whole between the drapes covering all but a small section of window. A knock on the door roused her fully, and she sat up in the bed, wondering when she fell asleep. She looked to her side expecting to see Lucius, but her husband was not there. She craned her neck around and listened for any sound of him in the room and the sitting room but heard not a peep.

Did he even come back last night?

A second knock brought her out of her questions, so got out of bed and summoned a robe to tie around her nightdress and walked to the door. Opening it, she found a servant girl who curtseyed.

"I apologize, Mrs. Malfoy, for the early interruption, but I have an emergency note addressed to you." The girl handed Narcissa a small, folded piece of paper and then curtseyed once more. "Good day."

Narcissa closed the door and eyed the note with suspicion before unfolding it and reading the contents. She got about half-way through and dropped the note to the floor and huffed in annoyance.

Abandoning the slip of paper, she hurried into the lavatory to wash and dress. An hour or so later, she was fastening her watch on her wrist and knew it was far too early to be knocking on Blaise's door across the hallway, but this was important.

She slipped on her cloak and left the room and walked directly across the hallway and knocked on Blaise's door. A few moments later someone answered who was not Blaise. Indeed, it was a young woman wrapped up in a sheet looking disheveled, lethargic, and grumpy.

"I think you have the wrong room," the girl said and blew a piece of hair out of her face.

"I regret to say I would have been quite perturbed if it had been Blaise who answered the door instead," Narcissa sighed out and smiled, more to herself, than to the girl. Yes, the handsome young man had a way with the ladies in England, Italy, and now the States.

She would flog his hide later.

"So that's his name?" the girl asked.

Closing her eyes and suppressing the urge to bark an unlady-like curse at the trollop, Narcissa asked slowly like she was talking to a five year old, "May I speak with him? It's an emergency."

"He's incapacitated. He drank like," the girl cocked her head to the side and flickered her eyes towards the same direction, her lips twisting in question, "five bottles of Firewhiskey last night. Let me tell you, Ma'am, he's not going to wake up for anyone or anything."

Narcissa opened her mouth to respond but a voice piped up behind the girl. It was another young woman dressed quite similar.

"It's true."

"Oh," Narcissa whispered and arched her eyebrows with a polite smile. "Well then…I'll just be on my way."

Like she promised, hide flogging Blaise will get.

* * *

Magical Salem's Jail was sufficiently cleaner than Magical London's. The ones in London were rat infested cages of vermin mutiny, Lucius dared to have thought. Nevertheless, he was visiting the jail under non-ideal circumstances. He clearly had underestimated Miss Granger. He had been prepared for door-slamming, insults, and perhaps a hex or two in his direction of those he would have articulately avoided. He, however, was not prepared for blasted wards. When Miss Granger had slammed the door in his face, he went to open the door and barge in but felt a harsh, shocking vibration wrack through his body.

He nearly urinated himself.

He had stumbled backwards and landed on his rear and winced in pain and embarrassment. He quickly stood to his feet with a grumbling curses and started quick work on dismantling the wards. He had Charmed himself invisible in case any dutiful passerby pedestrians thought his actions to be odd and report him to the Magical authorities of Salem.

He stretched the wards thin and tore a slash in them an hour later and took the risk of Apparating inside the house. It was quite dangerous to appear in a foreign place, unsure of knowing where one would end up.

When he appeared in the living room, he wondered why Draco had not set her up on a place more suitable for a mistress. Though the house was tidy and well organized, it was not a particular large piece of property. Certainly unsuitable for the upbringing of a Malfoy child. Malfoy youth need space to spread and test the elasticity of their magic. The doll house of a home would be incongruous for…what was the boy's name again? Narcissa had told him but…

A figure sprinted right past him towards the front door, and Lucius heard it open, thus was when some movement caught his eye. He turned towards a collection of photographs on the mantle, and his throat constricted.

It was his boy. His boy was there—young and reaching for him from between the frames. Blond hair and grey eyes full of life and wonder and want.

He had gingerly picked up a photograph, his hand acting on their own accord and brought it up to his eyes.

The photograph was of his boy, though he very well knew it wasn't, but closely studying the baby's features, the differences were _only_ slight. The baby's hair was the color of sunlight like a true Malfoy but the locks coiled floppily around his head. Draco never had curls.

The picture had been ripped from his hands and pressed to Miss Granger's chest, and the woman stared at him like he was a monster. And well…it had gone fetchingly from thence.

The Paxton fellow to whom had casted the Petrificus Totalus on him the night prior, came up to the cell and glowered at him through the bars while unlocking the door.

"I don't know what kind of connections you have, Mr. Malfoy but when a Death Eater has the balls to enter US soil and the stupidity to get caught breaking into a Muggle-Born's house, we throw him in prison for a long time and don't even bother calling an Auror." Paxton gestured for Lucius to leave. "Get out and I highly suggest you leave Salem immediately.

Narcissa was in the lobby area talking heatedly with Mr. Woods. He could not hear what she was saying, but their dear old family friend was not saying the right words, Lucius could only assume. His wife's cheeks were pinking into a scarlet shade, and her top and bottom teeth were pressed together crushingly. She hissed at Mr. Woods who merely shook his head with a shrug.

"There's nothing I can really do," the man said and took Narcissa's hand a patted it gently with his own.

"There's always _something_," his wife replied and noticed him coming closer. She smoothed her hands down her robes and pursed her lips together inquiringly, asking him what had happened to cause all three of them to be there.

Lucius opened his palms and stated unemotionally, "I got arrested."

"So I found quite early this morning," Narcissa snipped. "Would you care to tell me what happened?"

"Mr. Woods." Lucius greeted the attorney and politely shook his hand. "Always a pleasure. I assume it was you who put in a good word and got me out."

"I did, Mr. Malfoy," the man responded with an egotistical smirk. "However, I foresee if you ever catch yourself in a spot a trouble again, you may not be so lucky. The Yanks don't appreciate— I beg your pardon— your kind. In exchange for your freedom and to not contact the Aurors, I had to promise your stay here in Salem would be hasty and that you would be on the quickest Portkey back to England."

"Which we cannot do," Narcissa affirmed. "I told you our situation, Mr. Woods. We're not here for leisure."

"Yes, yes. You're here for your grandson. I had no idea young Draco had a moppet. Congratulations, congratulations and all that, but like I was telling your wife, Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid even my talents cannot exceed this limit. The Magical States' laws and regulations concerning children and parents are very astute. If the mother does not want you to see your grandson, she has full right to keep him from you."

"That is unacceptable." Lucius straightened his tie and cast a gaze around him to ensure he had not ruffled anyone else's feathers by his present presence. "Perhaps we should take this somewhere quieter."

"Sounds ideal. Let us venture to Madam Putman's. She makes spectacular English breakfasts. I assumed you two have yet to eat, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. We can discuss these things over some coffee. I for one was not expecting such an emergency call this morning. Didn't even get to kiss the Misses."

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favorited this fic! I'm sorry for any mistakes. I was in a bit of a hurry while posting.

Thank you to: Vaneesa85, Honoria Granger, gemini-rose16, gtbmel, twixxy-dee, Woemcat, Angelus Draco, maranjade, Team Dramione, Jordana Babe, Guest, Vampyerlover, and Angel Girl5 for the reviews. I always appreciate the time given by my readers for sharing their thoughts about my fic and giving the time to read it, too. Thank you so much!

So Hermione's Patronus is not an otter in my fic but a scorpion. In a later chapter, there will be a background story as to how her patronus changed ( like Tonks').

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! R&R, please!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you to all readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favorited this fic!

Thank you to: **Vaneesa85, Dreamsb223, Woemcat, Guest, Jordana Babe, mbclose, Angelus Draco, and Angel Girl5** for the reviews. I always love to hear feedback.

To make note: You will see certain similarities and differences between Muggle and Magical Laws in the US. There is a snippet concerning the Killing Curse, and I used The Right To Bear Arms and such for a law in this fic. I hope it all makes sense.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter! R&R, please.

* * *

Narcissa eyes narrowed at the prices on the menu of Madam Putman's Café. Money was not something she worried about, however, she was not a frivolous spender and purchased things she needed or wanted but never on a whim.

Okay, that's a lie. But really? Thirty plinkets for a true English breakfast and that's not counting the tea?

Narcissa scanned the menu for the variety of teas and found the restaurant only carried two kinds: iced and hot. Sighing irritably, she placed the parchment aside and focused her attention on her husband who was also frowning at the menu.

"You never told me what happened last night," she said to him.

"I'm sure you heard what happened from the report, Cissa," he said without looking up from the parchment.

"Oh, I read the report, but somehow I suspect you did not break past Hermione Granger's wards because you wanted to kill an English Muggle-Born and molest her child."

Lucius set aside the menu and horror filled his eyes. "Is that what they put? Is that what they thought? That I'm a…" He did not finished the sentence, but Narcissa made a note that he did not deny wanting to kill an English Muggle-Born.

"And I told them straight that you were not, Mr. Malfoy," said Mr. Woods who wiped at his mustache after drinking some of his coffee. "Perhaps some believed my word, but your record is colorful, and it was quite damning of you to break that woman's wards. For future reference, I shall tell you that the majority of these Yankee house owners have set up wards that are directly connected to a police station. If the ward seizes to work, the law enforcement are alerted right away and Apparate close by and keep an eye on the property, making sure all is well and will pop in if needs be."

"Lucius…what _did _happen last night?" Narcissa repeated forcefully.

"Yes, yes. Do tell, Mr. Malfoy," urged Mr. Woods and Lucius refrained from shooting him an irritated glare.

"Well," Lucius began slowly. "I arrived at Miss Granger's doorstep and knocked on the door. She answered but before I could get a word in, she slammed the door in my face and immediately set up Silencing Charms around the house. I admit, I did attempt to enter her home without her permission which was when I discovered she had set up wards."

"So you decided to break them?" Narcissa asked in dubiety. "Lucius, that was absurd! What were you thinking? You could have been killed."

"Ward-breaking usually does not result in death, Darling. Only if there is a curse attached to the ward does that happen, and that's particularly rare and most likely above Miss Granger's knowledge of magic."

"I'm not talking about that," she snapped and looked over at an amused looking Mr. Woods. "Explain to him, please, why it is dangerous to trespass on States' owner property."

Mr. Wood clasped his meaty fingers together and nodded gravely. "You see, Mr. Malfoy, the laws of using an Unforgiveable here in the States are flexible. Generally speaking, yes, the Killing Curse is outlawed. If used for self-defense or protecting of one's home and everything and everyone in it, Miss Granger could have very well decided use that right last night."

Lucius had not been aware of this law; however, it did not perturb him in the least. Miss Granger did not kill him nor would she. He was not naïve enough to believe she was made of fluff and sweets, but she was not a killer.

"She didn't," Lucius said sternly to Narcissa who scoffed and looked like she wanted to snap back at him but the waitress arrived at the table to take orders. When the girl left, Narcissa had calmed down some and sighed heavily.

"Did you at least get to talk to Miss Granger before you were arrested?"

"She refused to let me get a word in. She's quite ill-mannered and loud-mouthed. I haven't an idea as to what Draco may have seen in her. Pretty, yes. Respectable, no. And her home…" Lucius grimaced and stuck out his chin. "I would like answers as to why Draco did not set her and the child up in a proper house. The property is devastatingly miniscule, Cissa. It is so unlike our boy to not take care of what's his."

"Did you see the child at all?" his wife asked hopefully.

"…No I did not." He watched as his wife's shoulder's slumped and a disappointed breath escape her lips. He decided not to tell her about the pictures he saw on the mantle, knowing it would only cause her more grief.

"Mr. Woods, are you sure there isn't any way we can see our grandson?"

"From afar," Mr. Woods chortled jestingly and sobered at the bemused expressions tossed at him and waved a dismissive hand at them. "No, no. Don't do that. Stalking is frowned upon."

"What can we do?" Lucius asked, his patience wearing thin. "There must be something. Anything."

"Anything?" Mr. Woods stroked his mustache and cocked a brow. "Well, yes. If you word it that way, then I suppose anything may suffice. There have been cases where…grandparents have sued for custody of the grandchild."

A flicker of intrigue sparked in Lucius' eyes and Narcissa reached her hand over and placed it right above his lame knee and squeezed. The sparkle deflated and the corners of his mouth twitch downward in well-hidden grimace.

"That's outrageous. Absolutely not!" Narcissa hissed under breath as to not draw attention to the table. "There must be another way."

"Well, certainly not full custody, mind you," Mr. Woods scoffed. "But I could represent your case as for wanting joint custody. I could could ask the law for you to simply have visitation rights to the young lad, but those cases are firmly set on the parents' shoulders and whether they cave into the legal system or not. If this is something you are honestly interested in, I strongly recommend you think about it before pursuing. Law suits are such a messy business. If, by chance, you do decide to seek my help in representing your case and it doesn't follow through like you hoped, Miss Granger can turn around and sue you." The man sighed with wistful smile on his lips. "I love the States. So," he took a sip of his coffee, "Those are the only options I can give you. Legally, anyway. You can, though, try talking to Miss Granger, again, and hope for the best. Hmmm? That is what I truly suggest. Law suits—they can be so catastrophic, especially when a child is concerned. So let us have breakfast, talk about the good things in life, and then we'll discuss on what you really want."

* * *

Hermione ran into her Curly Girly Bookshop and weaved in and out of the shoppers and towards the café. She dodged the impatient looks sent her way from the long line at the counter and flew through the Employees Only door.

"Darlene! Jackson!" she yelled out, her chest stuttering for breath. Damn, she needed to stop smoking. She hadn't run that far for Merlin's Sake! She had only Disapparated from the market and appeared outside her store.

"Hermione," she heard Darlene's voice from the far back corner of the kitchen.

"What's wrong? I got your Patronus." Hermione ran towards Darlene's voice where the girl was found by the back door with stacks and stacks of open coffee pouches.

"We still don't have coffee! I thought you were going to take care of this yesterday!" Darlene gestured to the coffee pouches still filled with blow. "You left for Alex's school, didn't come back, and I got word from Luna you had to take care of an emergency. I thought the emergency was to get coffee! We don't have _any_ and we have twenty people in line demanding it with their blueberry scones! What the hell, Hermione?!"

"Where's Jackson? Why isn't he here? I can't be here, Darlene. It's Alex's birthday today, and I thought when I left yesterday, it was obvious I wanted everyone else to take care of the situation!"

Darlene burst into tears and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders stuttering from her violent sobs. She blubbered out, "H-He took a bag and went out back. When I went to go check on him, he and Matthew were lying on the ground and talking to the dumpster. What are we going to do?"

Hermione sighed and shoved her hand into her purse and fished out her carton of cigarettes.

"You can't smoke in here," Darlene wailed.

"I want you to go home. Can you do that?" Hermione asked while lighting the tip of her life-killer with a wave of her finger.

"Then what about the café? The coffee?"

"Can't we serve them tea?"

"We don't have tea for breakfast in the US, Hermione. You know that. You go out there and tell them their options are hot chocolate and tea, I probably won't ever see you again."

"Fine. The café is going to have to be closed for the day. We have no coffee, and two of our employers are most likely going to get arrested within the next thirty minutes. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be here when that happens."

"Okay. Okay." Darlene inhaled a deep breath and started untying her apron. "I'll go home. Are you going to pay me for my full hours, anyway?"

Hermione slowly blinked at the girl and cocked an eyebrow. "No."

"Because I was hoping-"

"Work one of the tills in the store. Don't care." Hermione shooed the girl away with a wave of her hand and stared back at the problem at hand. Effing Morgana, what was she going to do with fifty pounds of blow?

Looking from the stacks to her purse, Hermione cringed and pointed her wand.

This was a really bad idea.

* * *

"I'm home! I'm home! I home!" Hermione bellowed while walking through the front door, balancing a large, chocolate cake in her hands and several gift bags looped around her arms. "Luna! Phoebe!"

The two girls rushed to meet her at the door and helped her with the cake.

"You were gone for longer than we thought you'd be," Phoebe pointed out. "We're behind on decorating the backyard. Putting up the Weather Resisting Charms took a little while, and then we had to melt the snow…"

"It's fine. I just had to take care of some things at work," Hermione replied nervously. Friend or no friend, Phoebe would arrest her on the spot if she knew there was drugs in her purse.

"Oh," Luna said with a vacant smile and nodded like she understood. "Sorry that wasn't taken care of. Is it now?"

"For now. Is Alex at Nathaniel's?"

"Yes. Micah, as well. Brandon will be bringing the boys over at noon. The other guests will arrive sooner or later around then which gives us ninety minutes to get everything ready. Is Alex's father coming?" asked Phoebe.

Hermione slipped off the gift bags on the kitchen counter and dodged Luna's pointed look. "No, he won't be coming this time."

"Oh no. I bet Alex is feeling upset about that. The boy only gets to see him once, maybe three times a year. I can't imagine how hard that would be. Micah sees his father all summer and on holidays and complains about wanting to see him more. Damien and I have discussed every other weekend, but the prices of Portkeys are going up. They don't just let you make your own anymore, do they? But will Alex's father be visiting for Christmas?"

"I…hope?"

"Oh no. He's not coming, is he? You know, I really wondered about that. Especially the row you two had at the Easter Egg Hunt." A horror struck expression painted itself on Phoebe's face. "Is that why he's not coming today? He's still angry."

"It's…a bit more complicated than that," Hermione sighed and smiled sadly and placed the gift bags on the kitchen counter and then slipped off her coat.

Phoebe nodded and then narrowed her eyes and pointed at the witch's blouse. "What's on your shirt?"

Hermione looked down and to the left and her eyes bulged in panic. Chuckling nervously, she brushed off the white substance on her shirt and said, "When I stopped by at the café, I nibbled on a beignets. I may have gotten a little excited there."

"Are they any good? It's so hard to find a good beignets in this part of the country," Phoebe commented.

"Delicous," Hermione said and made her way towards the hallway. "I'm going to go change my shirt. I'll be right back. While I'm doing that, would you and Luna be so kind as to go in the basement and fetch the piñata. This morning Alex thought it would be funny if his dragon piñata was alive, so with some wishful thinking and a pet on the confetti scales, the bloody thing is flying around and blowing out red-orange confetti all over the place. If you could just corner it and un-animate it, that would be spectacular."

Hermione changed her shirt and slid her purse deep within her closet. When she had been in the café's kitchen, she had contemplated Vanishing the entire stock of cocaine, but Vanishing spells were not one hundred percent guarantee anymore. Nothing could actually disappear but merely be lost or placed somewhere else. Not to mention, with new advancements in criminal investigation spells, magic was now traceable on all magical beings. According to studies, each witch and wizard has a unique frequency that can be easily traceable. If she _had_ Vanished the blow, and it spontaneously appeared in the middle of the college campus Quidditch pitch, her magical fingerprint could be traced back to her by a few spells only taught to the authoritative figures in society.

Hermione didn't fancy the idea of a trip to prison.

Shirt changed, teeth brushed for the second time that morning, and her mask of 'I'm a good mom and not a barmy person' glued firmly on, she pretended that she did not receive the news of Draco's death the day prior. She would play the part of the dutiful single mom perfectly and lie to herself and say she did not need Draco to be there and she never had. Because if she clamped down on her pride for just this one day, she would not fall apart at the next person who decided to ask where her son's father was.

Shoulders up and back straight, Hermione marched out of her bedroom and down the hall towards her living room like she was eighteen years old and preparing for a war again. To her, losing someone one cared about was a war in its own way.

Brave face on and a new shirt in place, she was ready to tackle this birthday party and in no way would she be checking her watch and darting her eyes about in search for a blond haired prat to be arriving with an arrogant smirk and pockets full of perfectly wrapped presents for Alex and-

Oh Dear Gods!

Hermione stopped midway down the hall, her legs giving out and her emotionally overwhelmed body falling to the floor with a _thump_. She brought her knees up to her chin and buried her face into the denim, screaming into her thighs while rocking back and forth like she was a child and not a thirty-one year old woman.

Luna came around the corner covered in red-orange confetti and hurried towards her.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you okay? What's wrong?" The girl knelt down by Hermione and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He's not coming. He's not coming. H-He's not going to be here," Hermione whispered through thick, damp cries. She raised her head and shook it, running a hand through her curls and then clutching them like a life line. Placing her blood-shot eyes on a frowning, sympathetic Luna, she admitted, "I got no sleep last night. Draco's father paid a visit and broke my wards because he wanted to see Alex. I lied to Sam and Phoebe and told them I didn't know him. When they took him away, I couldn't sleep at all. All I could think about is trying to accept what has happened and still I _cannot_ wrap my head around that Draco is not going to be here today. He's not going to be here for Christmas. He's not going to show up and spoil Alex rotten with the latest broom he's too young to fly, the most expensive toys he'll break in seconds, and with loads of candy pouring from his pockets. Luna, he's not coming. He always comes!"

"Oh, dear. I was afraid this would happen. Come on, Hermione." Luna helped her to her feet and let the woman lean on her as much as needed. "Should we cancel the party?"

"No, no! Absolutely not!"

"How about I send you to your room with a bit of sleeping potion, tell everyone you're ill, and Phoebe and I will take care of everything."

"No, I can't do that! I have to be there! It's bad enough Draco won't be. I can't imagine how Alex would take it if I decided to nap during his special day."

"You need to rest. You can't contain your emotions without it."

Hermione sighed, face weary with resignation. "Sleeping Draught is not going to make the hurt go away. I'm going to wake up, and Draco will still not be here. Not even anywhere."

"I think you should take some time for yourself, Hermione. I can run the store in your place for as long as needed and hire another hand if needs be, but you need to relax and find closure. I know it seems impossible now to even think about anything besides Draco, besides Alex, besides the hurt. One day, though, it won't hurt so much—for you and for Alex. I promise. I lost a parent when I was young, too."

Hermione nodded and sniffled, licking her lips of tears. "How did you get over that?"

"Well," Luna began with her eyes flicking to the side like she was recalling a memory. "Father helped as did Mrs. Weasley's creamy onion soup but…I didn't get over it because you don't get over losing a Mum or a Dad. I remember one day I just didn't need to feel sad anymore. My mum was still gone." Luna smiled forlornly. "But I didn't feel the need to cry. Hermione, you know all this. You've lost loved ones in your life. So many lives gone during the war. How did you heal from those losses?"

Wiping her eyes, Hermione chuckled bitterly and vaguely answered, "Let's hope I handle this devastation differently than I did after the war."

* * *

Noon rolled around, and Hermione threw herself into keeping busy with entertaining Alex, his friends, and their parents. Phoebe had never managed to un-animate the piñata dragon, so it flew around the backyard while all the children grabbed a Quidditch bat and ran after it while sporadically jumping up into the air, trying to thwack it.

"This is quite the turn out, Miss Granger," Mr. Li commented while handing her a cup of punch. Hermione accepted the drink with a smile while putting the last present on the table. Stealing a sip, she stood back and contemplated the tower with a frown. Perhaps she should put some away for Christmas.

"That's putting it mildly," Hermione retorted and wondered if she were to give Alex all of his presents, where he would put them. There wasn't enough space in his room. Of course, she could always Charm his bedroom larger if it came down to it.

"Who's that?" Mr. Li asked.

"Who's who?"

Mr. Li pointed towards the backdoor and Hermione followed his line of vision and let out an audible curse, marching over towards a smirking Blaise Zabini.

To be continued...


	15. Chapter 15

"Who's that?" Mr. Li asked.

"Who's who?"

Mr. Li pointed towards the backdoor and Hermione followed his line of vision and let out an audible curse, marching over towards a smirking Blaise Zabini.

The dark skinned wizard's headache lessened slightly at seeing Granger's knickers get all in a twist over his presence, a sense of déjà vu spreading over him. He had forgotten how much fun the Slytherins had messing with the girl. She could so easily be riled by the only the slightest of things. Draco had, especially, loved to push her buttons. His mate must have liked her, even in school.

Blaise had woken up that morning with a killer headache, cotton mouth, the sound of two ladies giggling, and the door slamming. He had been sprawled all over the bed with his feet handcuffed to the headboards. Groggily and groaningly, he lifted his head a bit of the bed and peered at his surroundings with one eye, his other being crusted over. His limited vision noticed the bright sunrays from beneath the curtains and wondered what the time was.

With much effort, he managed to sit up in an awkward position due to his legs being humiliating spread and linked to the bedposts. Muttering curses, he had looked for his wand and saw it lying on the bedside table and wondered how he was supposed to get it. Perhaps if he had not drunk five bottles of Firewhiskey the previous night, he would be able to do a bit of wandless magic. No deal, unfortunately. If he so much as thought about trying to levitate his wand a centimeter of the table, his brain would surely liquefy and ooze out his ears. He flopped back down on the bed.

And just laid there.

For a long time.

Just thinking.

And then remembered the Holy Child of Draco and Granger had a birthday celebration that day, and Blaise had promised the moppet he'd be there. Cursing, he raised his head and glared at his wand, willing the damned thing to float to him.

Twenty minutes later with three sessions of projecting vomit, his wand fell on top of his head, nearly poking him in the eye. He grabbed it and freed himself and then rushed about the room to get ready to leave. Once showering and dabbing some cologne on that made witches swoon like love-struck ninnies, he dressed and went in search for his wallet.

And could not find it anywhere.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave," Hermione hissed at him, stopping a foot away from him and tearing him out of his lovely morning musings about being robbed. He watched with only the slightest of dread as the woman folded her arms tightly across her chest. The thing about Granger, presently and twelve plus years ago, she was bark and bite. She carried through on her temper if pushed far enough and the ramifications on the recipient could be painful and, more often than not, utterly humiliating. Fortunately for Blaise, he had never had a firsthand encounter with that specific part of Granger's personality. Sure, she screamed at him something rare the day prior, but she had never hexed him, not even in school. Of course, he had not messed around with her like Draco and other's had, the reason being he thought of her as filth and was honestly terrified if he even paid the slightest attention to her for any reason, she would contaminate him somehow. Currently, he no longer thought this way about her nor anyone born of Muggles and such, having coming to the conclusion at the ripe age of nineteen that if he lowered his 'elite blood' standards concerning women, he got quite a bit more play.

"Alex wanted me to come, remember? He said so yesterday," Blaise replied smugly, and Hermione took the time to look him over. Furrowing her brow, she stepped forward and sniffed and recoiled in revulsion.

"Are you drunk, Zabini?"

"I just had a little hair of the dog. You know how it is?" he smirked with a shrug and then caught eyes with Mrs. Wilcox, one of her neighbors. He winked at her, and the woman brought her left hand to her chest to emphasize the impressive rock on her finger and harrumphed while stomping away.

"Please, please leave. I beg you, Zabini, to actually think about what you and those lunatics called Draco's parents are doing. You all just come barging into my life, into Alex's life and want to ruin everything. It's one thing to inform me of Draco's passing, but-"

"He's their grandchild, Granger. He's their blood. Their family," Blaise said firmly. "He is all that's left of Draco. You would deprive them of that closure?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not keeping Alex away from them because of selfishness, Blaise. I'm protecting my child from who I think are dangerous people. I would no sooner introduce Alex to a pit full of snakes and call them family."

"They're not horrible. You're making them sound worse than they actually are."

"Funny. Draco said something similar years ago, but I know better." Hermione pinched the sleeve of her sweater and tugged the material upward, revealing the tarnished skin beneath, jagged lines angry as if the scar was fresh and not over thirteen years old. As quickly as she revealed it, she hid it and repeated, "I know better. You want me to willingly let the people, who stood by and did nothing but condone the act of my torture on their Drawing Room floor, into my son's life? Hurt him? Perhaps not. Fill his head full of lies like they did Draco? I would rather not have my child emotionally scarred for the rest of his life like Draco had been."

Blaise opened his mouth to undoubtedly retort something clever or demeaning towards Hermione but nothing came out. After a few moments, he sighed and slumped his shoulder and whispered, "They've changed. They're fine people, and they miss Draco."

"I'm sure they do," Hermione said with confidence. "But I don't believe they have truly changed their beliefs or their behavior. I don't know if you are aware, but Lucius broke into my home last night, stripped my property of their wards and tried to see Alex. Tell me, Zabini, does that sound like a changed man to you?"

"You came!" shouted Alex from across the yard. Hermione withheld her groan and watched with a forced smile as her son came bounding toward her and Blaise. "Tell me stories! Tell me stories! You said you would!"

"I know he said he would, Sweetheart, but Blaise has to leave, don't you, Blaise?" Hermione hinted through a poorly disguised growl while glaring at the man who was smiling down at her son with obvious affection.

"Actually, I can stay. I did promise to tell the lad stories, Granger," he lightly said with an innocent expression sent her way.

"You call her Granger? My dad does that, too." Alex excitedly started bouncing up on his tiptoes, his blond curls swaying atop his head. "I do, too. When people ask what my mum's name is, I can't say it, so I say Granger. It's so much easier saying that than Herm…Herm…"

"I understand perfectly." Blaise placed his hand on Alex's shoulder and patted him gently, and Hermione made a mental note to chop of the man's hands before the end of the day. How dare that bigoted bastard touch her son?!

Unable to bear the thought of taking Alex's smile away, she let Blaise escort him to a table. Phoebe came up beside her an inquisitive smile and asked, "Who's he? He looks like chocolate covered sin."

Sucking in her bottom lip and giving it a good pensive swipe with her tongue with her eyes glued on her boy, she eventually replied in a hushed whisper, "Yesterday I received new that Alex's father passed. This man was his best friend."

Gasping, Phoebe whirled around to face Hermione fully, a horrified expression on her face. "Hermione, that's…Oh my…When? I don't understand."

"Me neither." Hermione shrugged, her vision clouding while watching Blaise use his hands to tell some remarkable story about Draco's younger years, Alex listening avidly with a mirthful grin, and his friends crowding around to hear the tale.

"And…I'm assuming Alex doesn't know yet. When are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know. Not today, obviously. Regardless when, however; it will never be the best time."

"This is terrible. I'm so sorry. I'm really am. If there's anything I can do, just say the words. This is just heartbreaking. Especially with what happened at Easter and…Oh, Hermione! Stupid me, bringing that up! I can't imagine on how you must be feeling right now. How do you feel?"

Hermione didn't answer, her mind drifting to a more pleasant Easter than the one that happened seven months prior.

_Easter 2003..._

Alex's bottom lip stuck out and threateningly jiggled it at his mother, her hands stuffing his arms into the sleeves of his outfit.

"No, no, no! Don't be giving Mummy that look. You will wear this, and you will like it. You will be the cutest one there, and we will win the prize. Mrs. Haddock thinks her baby is the cutest baby in town, but that baby rhino of hers is nothing short of a tragedy."

Her baby's cheeks began to pink, his eyes watering in sadness. He brought his faux fur covered wrist to his mouth and gnawed on the material while whimpering miserably.

"Oh, pumpkin, do you need some more soothing oil on your gums?" Hermione cooed and picked him up from his changing table and held him close to her, keeping his hood down so she could press kisses on his head and face. Feverish warmth met her lips and she pressed her cheek against his forehead, a frown on her lips and wondering if she should cancel her plans to go to the Salem's Annual Easter Fair. Bugger! She wanted to go and win the prize for The Cutest Hatchling Award. Babies were automatically qualified (with a fee) if they had been born within the last six months in the local area of Salem. Hermione had entered Alex a month prior at the fairgrounds, and Patricia Haddock, wife of the mayor, had been there with their four month old daughter. Mrs. Haddock had looked down her nose at Hermione and sneered at her, openly saying an illegitimate child had never won The Cutest Hatchling Award in the two hundred years from whence it began. Biting her tongue, Hermione had kept her pride at bay and said nothing while filling out Alex's information on the slip of parchment and paying the fee to enter the contest.

"_You might as well save yourself the twenty-five plinkets, Miss Granger. A single mother like yourself probably needs the money,"_ Mrs. Haddock had said. Again, Hermione said nothing but simply finished paying the admission and walked away while pushing Alex in his pram far away from the horrible, snotty, blind lady. Who cared if Alex was not born within a marriage? He was the yummiest thing Hermione had ever laid eyes on.

The prize for the contest was bragging rights and a three month supply of diapers and to Hermione, that was nothing short of a heavenly idea of money saving and convenience.

Fishing out the soothing oil from the cabinet, she coated her finger and gently poked it inside her baby's mouth, smoothing the layer of medicine on the sensitive gums and feeling tiny little hard bumps of milk teeth poking against her skin. She was very careful as to not nudge them, knowing they were very sensitive and would upset Alex even further. Poor little thing, his teething causing his health to dwindle and result pain. The soothing cream helped the irritated gums in his mouth but did nothing for his fever.

"Does that feel better?" she cooed at him while taking her finger out of his mouth and wiping the slobber off on the skirt of her dress. Alex still pouted but thankfully was not wiggling his bottom lip at her with wet, pain-filled eyes. Goodness, she wondered if there was a spell where she could take his agony upon herself.

"We don't have to go to the fair. We can stay home. Mummy knows you don't feel very well." Hermione bounced Alex awkwardly in her arms, his contest costume adding extra weight and width to him. She walked over to the fridge and one-handedly opened the door and took out a bowl of chocolate pudding.

"I won't tell the healer you had chocolate pudding if you don't tell her I did, too," whispered Hermione with a goofy face, a tiny smile forming on Alex's mouth. Placing the bowl on the counter, she stuck her finger in the bowl and lightly coated his bottom lip with a brown smear. His little tongue poked out to test the flavor and laved until his mouth was clean, grunting for more. Hermione was about to oblige when she heard a key being inserted into the entrance door and the knob turning.

"Granger?" Malfoy called.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" she asked while walking toward the entrance of the flat. She turned the corner and spotted him shirking a light coat and putting it on the coat rack near the door. Her heart fluttered a bit at seeing how good he looked dressed in his black trousers and a white button up shirt rolled at the forearms. His hair was shorter and kind of spikey like he had stopped by a chic and modern Muggle hair salon on the way there.

Draco turned toward her once his coat was on the rack and looked like he was about to smile but his mouth didn't quite make the effort but instead frowned in bemusement.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked and took a step forward. "Do you want to hold Alex? You haven't seen him since Christmas. He's gotten big. He's actually teething now. I mentioned that in the last letter I sent."

"What did you do to your hair?" he growled and marched towards her and glared at her head.

"I cut it." She shrugged with a confused smile. "You cut you hair. It looks nice."

His snarl softened into a grim straight line on his mouth and brought a hand up to the back of her neck and wrapped a digit around the a small curl at the base of her skull.

"It's all gone. I liked your hair long, Granger. Don't cut it again ever."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Alex doesn't like it either." Sighing, she ran a free hand through her shorn locks with regret at the corners of her mouth. "I cut it because it was heavy, wild, and impractical with a baby who likes to grab and finds it fascinating when one howls in pain because of it."

"Speaking of…" Draco said whilst eyeing said baby in her arms and carefully took him from her, his hands supportively holding him up by his under arms and sides and sinking into the lush fur of the child's costume. "What is Scorpius wearing? A chicken costume?"

"He's wearing a baby chick costume."

"Why?" Draco wrinkled his nose which made Alex smile for a second before he turned his gaze towards his mother and let out a forlorn whimper.

"It's the Easter Fair today. There's a contest for the cutest baby in Salem, and I entered him in it because I know he'd win the prize."

"Of course he would, Granger." Draco smirked proudly and brought Alex closer to his face and smooched the plump roundness of the boy's cheek. He pulled away with a frown. "He's warm. Really warm."

"He has a fever. I don't think we'll be making it to the fair. Alex has just been so miserable lately since his teething started. I've gone to the healers but all they can prescribe him is soothing oil and fever reducer. However, his teething ring does help a little. Hold him and I'll go get it." Hermione rushed to the nursery to get the teething ring and rushed back when she heard wails of dismay. She found Draco holding their son out away from him with a look of panic on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"He just stared crying when you left. I didn't do anything but hold him."

Hermione took Alex from Draco and bounced him gently, his cries decreasing in volume. "There, there. Mummy's here. You don't need to cry. It's just your father."

"He doesn't know me," Draco said blatantly with a frown.

"Of course he doesn't, Draco. You're…You're not around. You haven't seen him since Christmas. _I _wasn't even sure if I'd see you again. You were rather vague when you said you weren't sure when you could visit next, and you mentioned nothing about visiting for Easter. In fact, I was one hundred percent sure we would spend the rest of Alex's life communicating over letters."

Draco scowled at her, brushing passed her and going into the kitchen. Hermione turned around to see him eyeing the bowl of chocolate pudding on the counter with interest.

"I wanted to surprise you," Draco whispered and Hermione followed him into the kitchen while adjusting Alex on her hip. He gnawed and laved slobber all over his teething ring with an expression of determination.

"Well, I'm surprised." Hermione raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "That's not a lie."

Draco must have sensed her hostility for he said indigently while leaning against the counter, his arms folded on the surface, "I will never not come, Hermione."

"You say that now and really, Draco, I honestly don't expect anything from you. _Anything._ Your life is in England, and mine is here. We both have different obligations. The money you give is appreciated, but one day we'll both move on from this stage of you visiting and sending a cheque. I'm…I'm saving up my own money," she informed shyly. "I got a job."

"Granger, I told you-"

"I know what you said, and it's not like I'm leaving Alex for eight hours a day. There are jobs out there that can let me stay home and be a mum."

Apparently displease by her decision to work, Draco grit out, "Do tell."

"It's embarrassing." Hermione's cheeks colored a pinkish hue and she smiled tightly. "But…I sell cosmetics."

"Cosmetics? As in…makeup? You don't wear makeup. How can you sell it when you don't wear it?"

"I wear a little," Hermione defended. "Just because I don't cake it on like those slags who throw themselves at you back home, doesn't mean it's not there."

"Are wearing any now?" He narrowed his eyes and raked his gaze over her face.

"Well…no," Hermione admitted but then stuck out her chin defiantly. "But I was going to put a bit on before going to the fair. And it's not just makeup, Malfoy. I sell skincare products, too, and I make a good amount of money. Not particularly a lot but enough for me to buy the name brand box of macaroni and cheese and not the store brand."

"You're not using the money I sent." Draco stood up straight and gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. "Are you truly so proud?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione scoffed out, "I'm using the money but not all of it. I mostly use it for Alex's needs. Diapers, formula, new clothes add up. If it makes you feel any better, I refrain from going to low-end sales and purchasing clothes for three plinkets or less. Only the best for your son." Hermione rolled her eyes at the last part and turned away from him to stomp away with dignity, but insistent arms wrapped around both her and Alex and pulled them backwards. Her back hit Draco's chest and then felt a pair of top and bottom teeth latch onto her earlobe.

"Oh," Hermione squeaked and snuggled Alex closer to her to keep from dropping him while his father whispered very bad, naughty, dastardly things into her ear. "That sounds…strenuous."

Draco buried his face into her neck and hummed while his hand found its way to Alex's curly blond head smoothed down the riotousness with careful and distinct affection. "Give Scorpius a bit of fever reducer and put him down for a nap. I want to be alone with you."

"Here for less than ten minutes and already making demands and requests. Pfft! You're so like you, Draco. How can you stand it?"

"Mmm," he hummed again in her neck and nipped at her vein. "I'm only like this around you, Granger. Outside of these walls, I'm actually a decent person. I only act this way because you like it, want it, relish it badly."

"King of lies. I do not like your arrogance. It's the least attractive thing about you."

"So what is the most attractive thing? _I _know I'm quite fetching, but tell me, darling, what about me makes these," Draco snaked his hand up her sundress, up her leg, and grabbed ahold of the side of her knickers, "drop?"

* * *

A/N: I know. A bit naughty there at the end. Anyways, as usual, thank you to my readers, reviewers, and followers.

Thank you to: **Vaneesa85, Guest, Honoria Granger, catsgotmytongue, Jordana Babe, Angel Girl5, Angelus Draco, and Katherine Julia**. Most of the reviews were very sweet and nice to read. Thank you so much!

**To those who were confused about the blow**: I'm confused about the reviews from them because I was asked where it came from. I know it's been a little while since Chapter 3, but that's where it was first mentioned. And I will say, it's going to have an important roll in the story. If that offends you, I apologize, but I'm not changing it.

Thank you to those who pointed out I misspelt a word in the last chapter, it has been changed to the correct spelling. I'm not the kindest person in the world, and I try not to judge but just to let some people know...there are ways to be kind while giving constructive critisism or telling them they made a mistake in a fic. *shrugs* Just putting it out there. Take it as a grain of salt or not at all.

I hope the chapter was enjoyable. I will not be able to update until next week. My sister is taking a trip down the aisle, so I'm going to be a tad busy for a little while. I'll miss you all, and I always appreciate R&Rs. Goodbye for just a bit and sorry for any mistakes made in the chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

"_So what is the most attractive thing? I know I'm quite fetching, but tell me, darling, what about me makes these," Draco snaked his hand up her sundress, up her leg, and grabbed ahold of the side of her knickers, "drop?"_

"You're abhorrent," she said to him venomously and wiggled her way out of his arms and went towards the medicine cabinet, snagging the fever reducer and giving two drops to Alex before disappearing around the corner and down the hallway. She heard Draco follow behind her as she entered the nursery. Alex fussed at her when she put him in his crib. Her hands dove into the blankets and found his pacifier, popping it into place swiftly. He sucked earnestly while his little arms reached up for her.

"He's quite attached to you, isn't he?" Draco surmised in inquiry, jealousy evident in his tone.

"It's normal according to the parenting books. I'm his everything, and he knows it, accepts it, welcomes it, and demands it."

Draco nodded and looked around the nursery. "You have him sleep here now?"

"Only during the day. At night, he still sleeps next to me in his bassinet or in the bed," she replied and wound up the crescent moon and stars baby mobile, so it would slowly twirl and play a soft, lulling tune. Alex's sleepy, tearful gaze reached out for her, so Hermione stayed beside the crib and rubbed her finger over his face and hair until his muffled sobs seized and his eyelids closed.

"Won't he get hot in his little costume thing?" Draco asked with concern and walked over next to her and bent down to lightly poke at Alex's baby chick fur.

"The material is light and warm as a pair of pajamas," Hermione explained and smiled when Draco's hand skittered over Alex, caressing the baby's hair and face and limbs, resting momentarily on the cute but prominent bulge of his belly that rose and fell with deep slumbering breaths. She watched Draco from the corner of her eye, seeing fascination and adoration at what was beneath his fingers. He must have felt her scrutiny because he tore his gaze away from the baby and stared at her just as penetratingly and vehemently but for an entirely different reason.

Heart beating wildly in her chest, Hermione stepped away from Draco and bolted out of the nursery.

But not too fast.

She ran across the hallway and into her bedroom, just barely breaching the threshold before being scooped up like a newlywed bride and deposited on the bed gracelessly. Falling backwards onto the mattress and staying there, she watched anxiously as Draco loosened his tie and tossed it to the side before making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Once shirtless, his shoes were kicked off and he lunged for Hermione where she simply rolled to the side and out of range and watched with a laugh as Draco came in contact with mattress.

"Witch, stop teasing," he growled at her.

"No," she responded with a mischievous grin and a shake of her head.

"Yes," he demanded and slapped his hand against the comforter for emphasis.

Hermione made an amused face at his childish behavior. "You can't make me."

But she really wanted him to try.

Expectedly, Draco pounced on her again and she wriggled beneath him to get him away (but not really). She pushed at his shoulders and managed to crawl a short distance away but was quickly attacked again. She brought up her legs in defense which only caused a dark, pleased chuckle to be evoked from Draco. He got up on his knees, her feet pressing into his bare chest and his hands rubbing her exposed patellae.

"You're in a vulnerable position, Miss Granger." He clucked his tongue and one of his hands ran up and down her calve muscle.

"So are you. I could easily push off this bed." She rested her upper body on her elbows and flexed her toes on his pectorals. "Try anything, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll break you."

Draco's fingers brushed back over her knee lightly dug his fingers into the divots and slopes of the bone. Her leg jerked back as she keened in annoyance. Swiftly as to not waste the opportunity, he lunged between the space of her legs and laid his full body weight atop of her.

"Cheater," she called him and cupped his head to comb her fingers through his hair, deliberately flattening the crunchy sounding spikes while he brushed his nose against hers. She whispered to him, afraid for either of them to hear her confession, "I…_sort of_ missed you."

"I couldn't come any sooner," Draco said, his fingertips brushing the skin below her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Work, unfortunately."

"Right." She tossed him a dubious look and sighed in distrust, her sex-drive diminishing instantly.

"And I can't just leave on a whim often, especially if you want to keep this entire debacle a bloody secret. There are those that would notice my continuous absence, Granger. My parents for sure. They raise an eyebrow if I'm late for dinner."

"Forgive me if don't buy into your excuses. You haven't seen Alex since Christmas and wonder why he cries when you hold him. How is he ever supposed to know who you are if you're not around?"

Groaning at her, he lifted himself off of her and fell to the side, disappointed he was not receiving an immediate welcome back shag from her.

"I don't want to talk about this. You'll just get all prissy and wound up and won't want to have sex with me."

"Like you haven't been getting any sort of companionship back in England? Poor you!"

"Are you assuming I've been with other women, Granger?"

Hermione rolled onto her side and propped her head up by the support of her elbow and rolled her eyes. "I'm not upset that you have. You still haven't told me what I am to you."

"I did, too! You're the mother of-"

"Which doesn't mean anything other than that. Doesn't make me your wife or girlfriend. You can see anyone you want. It doesn't matter to me."

"Really?" he drawled like he didn't believe her.

"Yes," she lied. "I can see anyone I want, as well. I mean, yes, I'm a little busy with Alex, but there is a man who student teaches at the university and works in the county library just down the street. He's very nice and…where are you going?"

Draco had gotten off the bed and was picking up his shirt. "It's lovely outside. What say you we have a stroll to the library."

"You're ridiculous, Malfoy. I'm speaking in jest. Don't you dare go storming over there in a jealous rage."

He dropped his shirt back on the floor with a bemused expression in place. "Granger, when you told me you…you know…back at Christmas, was that in jest, too?"

Gaping at him in outrage, Hermione sat up, balled her fists and screeched, "How dare you think I would just say that and not mean it, Malfoy." Sucking in a deep breath, she folded her arms stated calmly, "I meant it."

"Do you still?"

"You make it very difficult for me, but yes, I still do."

"So you don't fancy someone else? Not even the plonker at the library? If he's even real," Draco spat out bitterly.

"Mr. Thane is very nice and is one of the few men in this town who does not scamper in the other direction when seeing me with Alex. Regardless of his kindness and flirtations, I don't see him that way."

Draco nodded and then puffed up his chest and straightened his shoulders with a wince like he was readying himself for a blow. "I suppose this is where I tell you about-"

"You think I want to sit here and listen to you spout on about your conquests. I think not. Besides, like I said you are welcome to do whatever you like."

"But you said…" Draco tried, running an aggravated hand through his mussed hair. "You said that you…"

"You haven't said it back! And I'm still not your girlfriend! Shag anyone you like!"

"Bloody hell, woman! First, you want to do it! Then you want to tease me! You tell me you miss me. I tell you I had to work. You don't believe me and then we fight, and now you don't want to shag me! You're going to kill me one day, Granger; I just know it!"

"You bet your arse I will, Draco Malfoy, if you don't figure out what you want. You are welcome to see who ever you'd like, but it has to go both ways. You cannot become a jealous, possessive beast if I choose to bring someone into my life when you have done the same. Know this; I will not let you back into this bed if we are not an official couple!"

Draco sank to his knees at the foot of the bed like he was praying, his head lowered in agony. "Merlin, she's done it! She's cut me off! Take it back, Granger. You don't mean it."

"You know what you have to do," she said stubbornly. "What will it be?"

"If we decide to be a couple, you'll let me touch you, yes?"

Hermione snorted and refrained from rolling her eyes. Instead, she raked them over Draco's exposed skin with intrigue. "I suppose."

"And you won't bring men home with you? You'll stay faithful?"

Piercing him with a glare, she hotly replied, "If you will. If you don't, it's over. You'll still be welcome to visit Alex anytime, but not me. Is that clear?"

He nodded earnestly and leapt back up on the bed, gracelessly fumbling with his belt buckle in the process. He seemed to be unable to undo flap of leather, and Hermione was losing her patience. She made an exasperated noise and turned over on her side. If the man was going to act like an overexcited teenager, she reckoned she had time for a nap before the grand event.

"I'm getting it; I'm getting it, Granger. Don't roll over just yet. Save that for later."

"How about we just," Hermione stopped her sentence with a yawn, "sleep instead. I don't get enough because of Alex, and he's asleep, and it's perfect timing."

Through sleepy, hooded eyes, she watched as Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat, a heated expression on his face with his pants finally open.

"Should've known you would've done that once you had me in her clutches. All you woman are the same, you know? No shag, no shag, no shag until in a relationship, until marriage, until you bloody well say so. Then when you got us by the bullocks, you don't want to use them for what there for."

Smiling into her pillow, Hermione patted the space next to her with closed eyes. "Come to bed, darling."

Hearing muttered curses and the bed shift, she felt Draco lay next to her and snuggled close to him so her arms were wrapped around his torso and her head rested beneath his clavicle. Fingertips brushed over her forehead, nose, jawline, and lips. Playfully, she snagged a finger and sucked it into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around it. Hearing a groan, she opened one eye to peer at him while he took his finger out of mouth and replaced it with his tongue. Wetly kissing in passion accompanied with Draco's wandering hands, Hermione squirmed and shifted, one leg swinging over his waist and sitting herself into a straddling position atop of him. Their lips pulled apart, and Hermione placed hers on his collar bone and then chest, her swollen and sensitive mouth coming in contact with a raised line of skin. Experimentally, she lapped at the groove before looking to see what it actually was and asked herself how she hadn't noticed before.

"A gift from Potter years ago. Perhaps he told you about it," Draco said with disdain evident in his voice. Hermione brought a finger to the pinkish scar wet from her saliva and traced it. "He did, but it was all over the school about what happened to you. I hadn't noticed the scars before."

"I keep them hidden with a Concealment Charm most days."

"But your clothes cover them. Isn't it redundant to Charm them?" Hermione asked hypocritically, the skin on her forearm suddenly becoming unbearably itchy.

"I don't feel like seeing them most days," Draco said and encircled her wrist that was resting on his chest with his hand and guiding hers to rest on another gnarly reminder of the war. This one slanted over the downward sloped crevice of his ribcage. Wiggling downwards a bit, Hermione took away her hand and bent over to prick her tongue at the bottom of the scar and drag it up on the angle. His ribcage stuttered beneath her, and she heard his breath become shallow and fast. She peered up at him and saw him staring up at the ceiling like he was searching for salvation.

Placing a kiss on some of the scar, she sat up adjacently and pulled at the zipper on the side of her dress and shot her arms up into the air, wiggling her fingers and making an ahem sound to get Draco's attention.

"You may undress me."

* * *

Hermione roused awake, sucking in a deep breath and yawning and blinking her eyes open. She was lying on her stomach with her head facing Alex's bassinet with the comforter wrapped around some of her waist and legs. Whispering could be heard from the other side of the bed, so she turned her head and was greeted with the sight of Draco propped up by pillows with Alex, in nothing but a diaper, draped across his chest and a pacifier snug in place. The baby's head rested on his daddy's chest with heavy-lidded eyes and whimpering breaths while said Daddy stroked his bare back soothingly with a fingertips, muttering softly to him.

Hermione licked her lips at the womb-clenching scene in her tired state before coming to a defogged state of mind and rasped, "How long have I been asleep?"

"Hours," Draco said and then pressed a kiss to Alex's head, smiling dopey into the tiny curls.

"I can't believe I didn't hear him wake up. I always hear him."

"You were right when you said you were tired, but he didn't cry long. I fetched him."

"You took his costume off." Hermione sat up and scooted closer to the boys while tugging the comforter around her body to preserve some modesty.

"It was soaked with sweat and piss. I cleaned him up good and right, though. Those Muggle hypoallergenic moisturizing baby wipes are brilliant. I should invent a spell where it can do the same thing."

"You cleaned him up?" Hermione asked in surprise and beamed at Draco happily, scooting closer to him resting her head on his shoulder. "That was so nice and so…uncharacteristic of you."

"Well, I didn't fancy the idea. I admit, Granger, I had thought about running away and waking you up to do it, but…well…he's mine, too, you know?"

"Mmmm…I don't know, Draco," Hermione sighed in faux dubiety and turned her head to look at him. "Alex just doesn't look a whole lot like you. I've been thinking that maybe-"

Draco cut her off with a kiss, and she laughed into his mouth and returned the smooch. He pulled away but not too far. His lips were still teasing hers when he asked, "Are you going to take him to the fair? Is it too late?"

Hermione turned her head and looked at her alarm clock on her bedside table. "If I hurry, but Alex still looks feverish." The pink in his cheeks was still noticeable and contrasted deeply with the pale chest beneath him. "I really don't think it would be a good idea to go."

"But he'd win the contest," Draco reminded smugly and picked the boy up and lifting him up for a few seconds before bringing him back down for a kiss.

"I'd only win diapers, Draco."

"True, but Scorpius would win the title. Don't you want him to have that?"

"Of course I do. Especially since…" Hermione stopped mid-rant and shook her head. "Never mind."

"What?" Draco urged. "Tell me."

"Well...I'm not a terribly liked person among some of the well-to-do ladies in Salem."

"Jealous of you, I'm sure. Bet you make their usually stuffy husbands shift and cross their legs every time you walk by."

"Oh you!" She swatted his arm and glared at his smirking face.

"I'm only pointing out that your arse is divine and those swollen knockers of yours probably make them sweat," he rumbled into her ear before licking the outer shell of it. She shivered at the contact and whipped her head back and forth.

"No. That's not it. Some of the women are fine looking. They don't like me because…because I'm not married. They think me a sinner or something, I suppose."

"Hmmm," Draco noised while nodding gently. "I don't agree with the reasons for those women not liking you, but I believe I haven't much space to defend myself. I, too, did not like you at one point for ridiculous reasons. However, they have point, Granger. It is considered a sin by many when a child is born illegitimately, so what say you that we swing by the fair, win Scorpius his rightful place as the most fetching moppet in town, and then we find ourselves a church." He nudged her arm with his elbow and waggled his eyebrows. "Be back in time for dinner where we can eat our nourishment off of each other, and then make plans for the honeymoon. I'm thinking Rome."

Hermione let out a soft laugh and took Alex from him, loving the feel of his soft baby chub in her hands. Plucking his pacifier from his mouth, she hurriedly situated him at her breast before he would think to cry. He latched on greedily with audible grunts and slurps.

"Still sounds like a pig, I hear," chuckled Draco.

"I think he sounds cute. It means he's hungry," she cooed down at her baby and took his fist and peppered kisses on his tiny fingers while keeping eye contact with him. The parenting books and nursing books had said it was important to keep the baby's focus on her face for as long as possible. "Were you hungry, baby? Did your father not feed you?"

"I can't feed him. I don't have the goods, obviously," Draco objected with a snort, and Hermione reluctantly tore her gaze away from Alex.

"I have told you Alex can take bottles of formula. The powder is in the pantry. I also have frozen breast milk in the freezer which he prefers over the formula."

"I don't know how to prepare all that," Draco sputtered indigently and waved his hands about to emphasize his point and then stilled and threw her a confused look. "Wait…you have breast milk in the freezer?"

"I pump. Don't change the subject. You can wash a baby and change a diaper, but you can't feed one?"

"What do you mean you pump? What is pump? It sounds…"

Taking Draco's hesitancy as a hint for her to teach him something, Hermione explained, "I use a breast pump. It's a Muggle invention and a spectacular one at that. For instance if Alex has a nap and my breasts decide to leak, instead of stuffing my bra full of absorbent pads, I can hook up the pump, fill it, and save the milk for later."

Draco nodded slowly like he was letting the information sink in fully. His mouth then twisted into an unsure grin. "Can I watch you pump?"

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "It's probably the least sexiest thing you ever seen."

"It can't be that disturbing," Draco said, more to himself than to her.

"I'm not saying it will give you nightmares. You may not look at my breasts the same way again, though."

"And Merlin, we cannot have that." He caressed her shoulder pinned his eyes where his son feasted.

"Pervert," Hermione muttered at him. "When I'm done here, I'm going to show you how make a bottle for Alex, understood?"

"But what about the fair," he whined. "I want Scorpius to win."

"He's ill. He'd be miserable, Draco."

"What if we went for as long as the contest and no more? Hmmm? Just long enough to win."

"I don't know. What if Alex vomits all over the judges?"

Draco nagged her until she relented and slipped back into her sundress and went into the nursery to clean up Alex's costume. When she returned to the bedroom, Draco was dressed in only his trousers and was gliding around on the floor with the baby in his arms. Smiling at the image with light bubbles of adoration in her belly, she playfully asked, "You're quite fond of him, aren't you?"

"Mmm, he's quite likeable, yes." Draco stopped his dancing and lifted Alex up into the air and contorted his features into something silly and brought him back down for sloppy kisses on the cheek. Hermione didn't miss the delighted grin on her son's face and was undoubtedly sure his father was getting lucky again tonight.

* * *

A/N: Phew! Goodness and gracious, my we last couple of weeks have been busy. Never let a sister who is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs get married. Nevertheless, I'm happy for her. The guy she married is a good one.

Anyway, thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favorited.

Thank you to: **grnfield, Anjali Katari, NazChick, Regin, Vanessa85, Angelus Draco, Woemcat, and Jordana Babe** for the reviews. I loved reading them.

To **Anjali Katari**: I've never heard of the movie, but I would like to know the title so I can check it out. It sounds really good.

Hope the chapter was enjoyable and would love to hear feedback on it. I'm sorry for any mistakes. I'll probably go back when I have a minute and check for any mistakes I missed.

Thank you so much! R&R, please!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and to those who have favorited this fic!

Thank you to: **Anjali Katari, Guest, Guest, Vaneesa85, chyaraskiss, Angelus Draco, Jordana Babe, Katherine Julia, and anna** for the reviews.

**To Anjali Katari:** Thank you, thank you, thank you for your kind words. I'll have to keep a lookout for that movie or find it somewhere. And I agree. It's so tempting to pass by the typical Head Relationship and or a Marriage Law fics. I've read some good ones, but there are so many out there with the same cookie cutter storylines. I respect the authors who put a lot of writing time into those types of stories, but...I don't read them. I'm a fic snob, I guess. And there are those out there who really like Head Relationship and Marriage Law fics and woudn't even dare to click on the link to this story. I mean, siriusly, I killed Draco. Even I would be all...I don't know if I want to read _that_ fic. It sounds morbid with no hope for a happy ending. **So thank you and to all who gave this story a chance.**

**To** **Vaneesa85:** Thanks so much! I'll tell her your congrats.

**To those who want Draco alive:** *Shakes head* I'm sorry. I cannot undo my plot. I understand your pleas, though. You want him to be with Hermione and his son, but that's not my story. However, I will give kudo cookies to a reader/author who can write a fic similar to this with Draco being alive. There can be a happy ending for Dramione and Alex in another world. The catch is if someone does write the fic, I'd like a little credit for the idea. If no one does, that's okay, too.

Now on with Chapter 17! I apologize for any mistakes and hope the chapter is enjoyable. Read and review, please!

* * *

The fairgrounds were packed with witches, wizards, tents filled with activities, and mouth-watering smells of sugary sweets and salty meats. The sun shined brightly, casting warm temperatures throughout the town, and Hermione was especially relieved to not have been wearing something heavy and hoped Alex wouldn't get terribly hot in his chick costume.

"He's not sweaty, is he? Should I cast a Cooling Charm on him?" Hermione asked Draco who was carrying him, both adults having decided to leave pram behind on their short trip to the fair. They were only going to stay for the contest.

And maybe some frozen custard.

Mr. Wimple's sign caught her eye. The plump man was jovially serving some customers in his designated tent and caught sight of her, gave her a wave, and Hermione returned it politely.

"Hope to see you over here soon," the man called out to her with a wink.

"Who's that?" Draco asked and looked like someone had shoved something revoltingly smelly up his nose.

"That's Mr. Wimple. He makes the best frozen custard in Salem. We should get some on our way out. It's really good, but I admit, is the reason I have not been able to shed the last ten pounds of baby weight."

"Just keep it on, Granger. I like being able to cling to something while I'm-"

"Not in public, Draco," she chastised with a heated blush, a group of squealing children running in front of them chasing a purple ribbon-decorated pig.

"Your mum is no fun," he said to Alex with a fake a pout. "How can you stand to be around her?"

Alex made a grunting sound at him, sounding eerily similar to the grunts he made while nursing.

"Aww." Draco nodded his with a leer. "Me, too."

"The tent where the contest is being held is up there." Hermione pointed to the far right tent where smartly dressed women were pushing prams passed the heavy curtains. She led Draco to it and took Alex from him, the man frowning at her because of it.

"You can go do something else if you want. They are having a Quidditch game over somewhere and you can go watch. There's also an archery contest and a lot of other activities if you want to check them out," Hermione informed him while adjusting the baby on her hip.

"Do you not want me here?" Draco gestured to the tent with hurt in his eyes, and Hermione smiled quizzically.

"Do you want to be? I don't think any of the fathers are going to be present. It's usually a mum thing. I don't think dads really care."

"That's rubbish. What father wouldn't care about their child being the best in something?"

"So you want to come with?" Hermione asked and nudged her head at the tent. "You'll most likely be the only male in there."

Draco did not answer but stole Alex away from her to make his point and kissed the boy's cheeks to emphasize it. Hermione's belly felt gooey and warm and grinned at the man, coyly linking her arm around his free one and resting her head on his shoulder. In this manner, they entered the tent and was instantly bombarded with Annabelle Cameron with her clipboard and peacock feather quill.

"Miss Granger, I almost thought you wouldn't come," the plump woman in a bright pink, skin tight robe as she jotted down something on her clipboard with haste. She looked up with a squished smile on her pink lips and did a double take when seeing Draco. Her rouged cheeks darkened further and brought a hand up to her hair like she was smoothing the strands and asked, "And who is this?"

Withholding the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione answered, "This is Alex's father."

Draco nodded politely in neutral, masculine way of saying, 'Hello.'

"Oh," Annabelle blinked in astonishment. "How exciting. Well, I'll just send you over towards the stage. We are running a tad late, but we'll be up and running in a few minutes."

The woman shuffled off, leaving behind a strong waft of perfume smelling similar to Slick-Easy Potion and nail polish remover. Hermione frowned in her wake, sighed wearily, and said to Draco, "And there she goes to tell everyone that Alex _does_ have a father. Stupid cad, I can't stand her and most of the women here. They do nothing but spend their fat husband's money and give birth to the milk man's baby."

Draco laughed heartily at her and wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked through the tent towards the shiny black surface on the ground that was acting as the stage. "The milk man must be a handsome bloke then."

"Oh, he is." Hermione smirked playfully and squeaked when she felt his hand drop and pinch her bum. Still, she continued to taunt him. "He always gives and extra jug. He's always welcome to leave the milk on the doorstep, but he's such a gentleman. He _hand delivers_ and...Mmmph!"

Alex was sandwiched between his parents, his father having kidnapped his mother's mouth for a ransom that could not be met. Draco nibble possessively on Hermione's lips as she carefully, as to not smash Alex, brought the man's face as close to hers as possible.

"You like to make me jealous, don't you, minx?" he hummed into her mouth.

"I don't make you do anything, Malfoy. You choose to be jealous. I'm just saying facts." Hermione shrugged innocently..

Draco kissed her again, this time lightly and whispered raspingly, "I'm going to have again tonight, Granger. Once this bloody thing is over, I'm taking you back to the flat and I'm going to-"

"Miss Granger," Annabelle piped up from beside them with a scandalized expression. "You need to take your baby to the stage. It's starting."

* * *

_SLAM!_

Hermione winced at the sound behind her and awkwardly juggled her sleeping baby and the paper cup of lemon and berry custard. She went into the kitchen and stuck the half-empty dessert bowl into the freezer and then supported her son with both arms, sending a sympathetic look at Draco who was pacing the sitting room and tossing his arms up in the air while belting out curses.

"I know you're upset, but Alex is sleeping. I don't want him to wake up in a snit. Will you please calm down?" Hermione gently asked, her voice low and full of care.

"I can't bloody calm down when that soddin' contest was nothing but shit!"

"I know you think it's unfair, but I knew Alex wouldn't win," she offered while rubbing the baby's back, the hot puffs of breath on her neck keeping her from having a tantrum like Draco.

He stopped mid-pace and glared at her. "You said you knew he would win!"

"I was just saying that because I knew it'd make you happy. I knew Alex wouldn't even place. I only entered him because I wanted to be a part of the community, to get to know people. I admit, the ladies and the judges are not the kind of people I like to associate with, but I have no regrets entering him in that contest."

"I just don't understand." Draco shook his head and sat down on the sofa with his back hunched and his arms resting on his knees. "Scorpius was the best looking one out of all them. He should have at least won some prize. Is it because…Is it because of…Blood Status?"

Hermione shook her head and sat down next to him and handed him Alex, knowing Draco would calm down with the baby in his hands.

"No, Blood Status doesn't mean a whole lot here. At least not in Salem. Being a Squib is still an embarrassment, but they are few and often move to the Muggle World. The reason Alex didn't win was because we're not married. I told you that the majority of the high-class people look down on me. They are the ones who are over the contest. They have an idea of what a family should be like, and Alex and I are not it."

Draco rubbed Alex's back while the boy rested on his shoulder. He was quiet for a long time and for a while they sat on the couch not saying anything.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. "We should get married."

Hermione was not at all surprised by his proposition. Hours before, he had suggested they get married when they had been in bed. The suggestion had been lighthearted with a roll-off-the-shoulder tone, but she knew he would have liked her to accept the barmy proposal. And to her, that's what the idea was—completely mental. She was aware many couples married if a child had been conceived before matrimony. In fact, her parents had been married in April 1979 and she was born in September.

With the memory replaying in her mind of watching her mother remarry and father escort his pregnant wife into the hospital, Hermione wondered if her parents had only needed her gone to gain the courage to divorce. She also wondered if they even really loved each other. While growing up, they never gave her the impression their marriage was faulty. When Hermione had left for Hogwarts, she naturally did not see her parents as much as she had before. Summers were often filled with time away from home, vacations to keep their small family busy. Thinking back with a parent's point of view, hers did seem like they were more than compliant in her leaving to spend the second half of the summer with the Weasleys and she hoped it wasn't because they love her. She knew they had, but maybe they loved the feeling more of not having to act like they loved each other.

There were numerous reasons as to why she would never marry Draco, the number one being his family. His horrid, retched family. The idea of being a daughter-in-law to Lucius Malfoy made her stomach retract and coil in severe revulsion. She remembered all too well how he aggressively encouraged Draco to name names at their manor when she, Harry, and Ron had been captured during the war. A part of Hermione knew the Malfoy patriarch was just trying to keep his family alive and providing Harry Potter, a Blood Traitor, and a Mudblood to Voldemort would have been a lovely way to ensure survival. Nevertheless, that pathetic excuse for a man got him and his family into the mess, not once, not twice, but three times and had evaded proper conviction two of those times. Harry had been the reason why Draco and his family got to walk out of the Wizengamot free.

Hermione was not under any illusion the man sitting next to her holding her baby was one hundred percent innocent, but he probably would not have caused so much trouble if he had been blessed with a better father.

The second reason she would not marry Draco was he had yet to say he loved her, and she did not love him the way a wife should love her husband. She loved him for giving her Alex. Every prank, name-calling, and or illicit stint Draco had ever pulled was forgiven when the baby was born.

After her weekend fling with Draco the year previously and before find out she was pregnant, not once did she think about him, dwell on his face or impeccable physique. She had not liked him in school and she had not liked him when experiencing those admittedly pleasurable forty-eight hours at his flat. He was merely her last hoorah before doing what Harry had told her to do—grow up. The weekend was supposed to be about two adults fulfilling their needs, and she clearly remembered him waving his wand and casting the Contraceptive Charm on her the moment she agreed to stay with him, naïvely thinking nothing of the extra R twisted up in the spell.

When Hermione had her Healer's appointment where she found out about her pregnancy, she had thought of Draco then but only briefly and with many curse words. Sporadically throughout the remainder of her pregnancy, she rarely thought of him. She didn't curse his name whenever she was stooped over the toilet puking chili cheese fries or when a Healer's bill came in the mail. She didn't think of him when her hormones were coursing heavily and thickly through her veins, and she wanted nothing more than to find the nearest attractive male to calm her. But she had thought of him when Alex was making her more rotund and giving her Braxton Hicks which was when she had decided to send that letter, simply stating:

_Malfoy, you are a fumbling-tongued moron and have gotten me pregnant. Thought you should know._

_-Hermione_

With Draco standing at the foot of her hospital bed post-partum, it had been difficult to not think about him. His stupid, smug mug was in her face and saying shite like he had a right to do so.

Alex had been perfect and consumed all of her thinking space in her brain. She had to kiss Draco like it didn't matter he was an utter bastard.

Since Draco left her and the baby in the flat the first time, promising to visit for Christmas, she often let her mind wander back to England where he was and if he was truly coming back and certainly not for her sake alone. He had seemed genuinely interested in Alex and being around for him; nevertheless, she had been shocked to have him sneak into her bed minutes before Boxing Day.

Draco Malfoy, underneath his arrogance and snobbish, rich boy demeanor, was a probably a good man. He was not a hero like Harry, a martyr like Professor Dumbledore, or a sincere gentleman like Neville. However, he was not Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin, or even his father. The man sitting next to her holding their baby was simply a pain in the arse with likeable qualities, and Hermione loved him for only one reason and that was Alex. She liked Draco and shamefully lusted for him ever since holding the baby in her arms for the first time, but she could not love him wholly. Fear plagued her heart and had set up a barrier to keep him the way he was—her secret. If she chose to lower her guard, he could hurt her and hurt Alex and probably not even mean to. She could very well accept his proposal and marry him, fall in love with him properly, and be toted back to England where their relationship and Alex would never be accepted by his family or the friends she left behind. The war was over back home, but it was still incredibly fresh, for those who had survived, to accept an enjoinment between a war heroine and a former Death Eater.

"Oh, Malfoy," Hermione sighed and maneuvered to her knees and rose up on them, so she could caress his hairline affectionately. Her fingers moved to his ear where she toyed with the lobe and then to the back of his neck and dug her fingernails into the tense muscles and scratched. His eyelids fluttered shut and he leaned his head back into the support of the couch, trapping her hand between the two. "You know the answer to that."

Draco's hand rested firmly on Alex's back as the child continued to sleep. With closed eyes, he rubbed the baby's back soothingly and turned his head away from Hermione to kiss the boy's head resting on his shoulder.

Hermione frowned at the damp sensation soaking her dress. Looking down, she groaned and hurriedly got off the couch and rushed into the kitchen and pulled out the breast pump from the cupboard.

"I can wake him if you'd like," Draco offered. "He should probably eat. He'll only cry for a second."

Hermione made a feeble attempt to stop the milk flow by sticking her forearm down the front of her dress while she looked at the clock, considering to feed Alex then instead of later. If she woke him now, he would sleep a bit longer during the night.

"Okay," Hermione called out to Draco and came rushing back into the living room and took Alex from him. Her baby whimpered and his pacifier dislodged from his mouth and he began to suck on air. Draco pulled down the stretchy sleeve of her dress along with her bra strap, and she wiggled her arm out of both and brought Alex to her breast.

"He's still asleep," Draco stated fondly. "His eyes hadn't even fluttered open for a peak and still he eats."

"Babies often dream of nursing. He probably thinks he's having a vivid one," Hermione guessed with a grin and brought her sleeping baby's fingers to her mouth and kissed each tiny one with tenderness.

"It's not just babies who dream of nursing, Granger," Draco drawled lecherously and waggled his eyebrows comically at her. He leaned over towards her and placed his lips close to her ear and whispered, "I want you again tonight."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow and pursed her lips in consideration. Kissing him lightly on the lips, she proposed, "I'm hungry, and I'm going to be positively famished when Alex is done. Fix me dinner, and I'll eat it off of you."

"Uh…" Draco chuckled out nervously. "Granger, I can't cook."

"Shame." Hermione shrugged. "I was going to do," she leaned over a little and whispered into his ear and then pulled back with an expectant expression.

"I might be able to make a sandwich," Draco said hopefully, a pinkish hue coloring his cheeks.

"No, I want grilled chicken and zesty lime rice with steamed vegetables," Hermione said bossily. "That sounds really good to me, and you should find everything you need in the kitchen."

"Merlin, talk to me like that again," he begged, his eyes dilating and hands digging into the defenseless cushion of the couch.

Hermione looked at him quizzically and asked, "Talk to you like what?"

"You know…like when we were in school. Remember how you used to talk to me and to anyone that defied you? Like that. Talk to me like that."

Hermione blinked, her mouth wide open in dubiety. "Y-You want me to… reprimand you?"

"Yes." Draco shook his head eagerly, a smile forming on his face. "Punish me. Yell at me. I'm bad, Granger. I don't know how to cook for you. Make me do it anyway."

Mouth still open, Hermione furrowed her brow and then a chuckling scoff escaped her lips. "Malfoy, are you suggesting trying something a little _extra_ for this evening?"

"It'll be fun."

"What? Me yelling at you?"

"Not like you're truly angry with me. Just…tell me that I've been bad. You have role played before, haven't you?"

"I'm not answering that. And who knew you had a fetish? You like to be punished?"

"Only by lovely birds such as yourself, and let me tell you, Sweetheart, I have fantasied being disciplined by you since Fifth Year." Draco leered at her and licked his teeth and lips hungrily. "Do you still have your Hogwarts uniform?"

Flushing deeply, chastisement filled her tongue and she was about to unleash it but decided the insufferable man would only be encouraged by the act. Instead, she played along with the inevitable, an accepting smile on her lips. "I don't know, Malfoy, do you have yours?"

"Not with me, but…" He leapt to his feet, unsheathing his wand from his inner blazer pocket and waved it at his clothes. His attire began to shift and within seconds, he was standing before her in a Hogwarts Slytherin uniform completed with a perfectly pressed, white button up shirt that was topped with a green and silver tie. Hermione snorted at the Prefect badge above his heart. She held Alex closer to her and looked down at him lovingly and said to him with poorly disguised giggles, "Your father is ridiculous," and then kissed his forehead and switched him to her other breast before looking up to beam and a smirking Draco.

"How do I look?" he asked while turning around and gesturing to his attire.

"Like a twenty-three year old man in a Hogwarts uniform."

"I look bloody handsome, Granger. There's no need to deny my fetching self."

"I didn't deny _that_, Malfoy."

"Well, get going on putting on your uniform. I want to see you in it."

"I'm a little busy." She bobbed her chin in Alex's multitasking act of sleeping and suckling at the same time.

"When you're done then, I suppose."

"I'm still hungry, Malfoy, and you have not made my dinner yet," Hermione whined.

Draco lowered himself to his knees and pouted at her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "I don't know how to cook. Should I do it anyway, Miss Granger?"


	18. Chapter 18

"_I don't know how to cook. Should I do it anyway, Miss Granger?"_

Hermione almost said yes but thought better of it. If Draco said he was unable to cook, then he probably wasn't lying, and she wasn't going to have him banging around in the kitchen making a mess or wasting food by burning it.

"No," she said and looked down at Alex and asked, "Are you done yet?"

The baby grunted in response, and Hermione winced when feeling the pressure on her breast increase and felt the teeny bumps on his gums gnaw on her. Alex wasn't simply nursing but was trying to alleviate his pained gums by placing pressure on them.

"Ooh, Pumpkin." Ignoring Draco who was still kneeling on the floor trying to get her attention, she extracted the baby from her tender bosom. "You're hurting Mummy. Draco, here." She extended Alex towards him and looked down at her breast. "Take him."

"I'm never gonna get laid now," she heard him mutter and took Alex from her hands who began to wail. He opened his eyes where tears began to form, his mouth and tongue milky and was puckering and waggling for more. "Will you burp him?"

"Pardon?" Draco blinked.

"Burp him. Get a cloth and put it over your shoulder and burp him," she explained while frowning at the mark Alex left on her. Dear Merlin, he broke the skin.

"Is there not a spell for that?"

"No. Now you better hurry before he vomits on you. To forewarn you, he might anyway."

"Dully noted." Holding out Alex as far as he could while still keeping ahold of him, Draco went into the kitchen and came back with a soft rag draped over his shoulder and the baby resting upon it while he lightly thumped the tiny back. "Am I doing this right? Am I hurting him? He's still crying. What do I do?"

"Pat higher on his back. Yes, right there is good," she told him as she slipped her bra strap and sleeve back onto her shoulder and stood up. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Draco asked as she walked down the hallway. When she entered her room, she went to her bookshelf and pulled out the book she was looking for and went back into the living room and stood next him, flipping through the pages.

"I think it's normal. I believe I read about it a couple of months ago, a bit before Alex started teething. Ah, yes, here it is." She read skimmed over the chapter, picking up key parts.

"Granger, I know little about infants, but even I could tell you, it's normal for babies to bite their mothers."

"Feast on yours, did you? And how could you know it's normal. You weren't breastfed," Hermione reminded and closed the book with a sigh. "But yes, it is normal for Alex to chomp on me. When babies start doing that, some mothers stop nursing them and strictly give them formula and start introducing soft nourishing foods like yogurt, fine rice, applesauce, and mashed vegetables." Hermione stole the shoulder rag from Draco and draped it across hers and then took the baby, earning a frown from the man.

"Why do you always take him?" he whined.

Hermione smiled endearingly at him while resuming the work of patting Alex's back. "You can have him back in a minute. I do believe his diaper needs to be changed and since you did the job so well earlier, you may do it again. Let's change him out of his chick costume, too. I think we need to have a little trip to the market."

"Now?" Draco flabbergasted and then pouted at her. "I thought we were going to have our time. Can't you go to the market tomorrow?"

"I don't think I'll have time. I have an early appointment at a client's house tomorrow morning."

"Why don't you cancel it and spend the morning with me. I have to leave at least by ten tomorrow."

"Oh," Hermione said softly with a furrowed brow. "So soon?"

"You know I can't stay longer. Will you please cancel the appointment?"

"Draco, I can't. There's going to be at least thirty women there. Imagine if they all bought from me. You're a business man, so you must understand how important this is. I need that money, so I can go back to school."

"I'll give you the money," Draco growled.

"No and that's final. I'm going in the morning, but we still have tonight. It's not late, and we have time to make a visit to the market and still spend some time with each other afterwards. Now if you change Alex, I'll get his diaper bag ready and a bottle and…Don't look at me like that. This is what's happening, so deal with it."

_Present Day…_

"Miss Granger?"

"Hmm?" Hermione questioningly noised at the direction of who was calling her name. Mrs. Haddock met her line of vision, and the woman frowned at her with annoyance and marched over to her from across the backyard.

Being pulled back to the present, Hermione looked around and saw her and Alex's guests gathered around the table where Blaise was entertaining them, all of them enthralled like he was bestowing them the secrets of the universe.

"Miss Granger?" Mrs. Haddock yipped at her again.

"What?" she growled back. It was no secret she only put up with the woman because Alex was friends with her daughter. That little Britannica was nothing short of a comedic act. Speaking of, Hermione searched the mass of people for the little girl and bit back a chuckle. Little Miss Haddock had already gotten dirt all over her new dress her mother had purchased for her to wear to the party.

"Who is that man telling horror stories to the children? And you're just letting him? He is giving them ideas, Miss Granger."

In the split second of having decided who she disliked more, Mrs. Haddock or Blaise Zabini, Hermione replied with fake aghast, "Mrs. Haddock, that is my guest of who my son strictly invited to the celebration. Mr. Zabini is a _dear_," she refrained from gagging, "friend to the family."

"He's indecent," Mrs. Haddock icily clipped. "He's filling my daughter full of all kinds of ideas. She's difficult enough as it is! I do not need my daughter to know when flobberworm mating season is just so she can get a girl one and a boy one and stick them under the flooring of my bed!"

Unable to control herself with learning of Draco's death, his blasted parents showing up into town like they had a right, and Blaise Zabini in her backyard making her son laugh hysterically, she spat out, "Perhaps those worms will give you and the husband ideas of find ways to dislodge the stick from up your arse, Mrs. Haddock!"

Mrs. Haddock gasped and Hermione became painfully aware of the lack of background noise. She looked around and mentally shouted a curse, closing her eyes in embarrassment. Everyone in the backyard, including Blaise and her son, were staring at her in bewilderment.

"Wow, Mom! She sure told you!" Britannica exclaimed. "Are you going to hex her?"

The woman actually looked like she was considering doing just that, and Hermione almost wanted her to try. The leech of monster was nothing if vile, having wanted to be part of the upper class for so long. She had married Mr. Haddock, a Healer major who decided to change his choice of profession after they married and had a daughter. He currently taught Arithmancy at Salem Institute and received a professor's pay which was miniscule. Maureen Haddock nee Manson, having been born and raised of proper breeding in Mississippi to an aristocratic father and an heiress, felt like she had been gypped in life, but Hermione could not provide the least bit of sympathy. Not because the woman was a pitiful brat, but because she had the audacity to try and get cozy with Draco a few years back on Alex's fifth birthday.

Mrs. Haddock straightened her spine and tilted her chin upwards and haughtily said, "You aren't even worth my wand's time. Come, Britannica, we're leaving. Say goodbye to Alex. You won't be seeing him for a long time."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the departing woman. Alex would see Britannica good and plenty. They were in the same school and same class which was where they spent most of their playtime. Usually, Alex didn't play with her after school, preferring to interact with Nathaniel. Britannica was much similar, preferring to spend her afternoons with girls.

Once Mrs. Haddock and her daughter were gone, Hermione fled into the house, opening the freezer door of the refrigerator and sticking her head inside, wondering if she should go back and tell everyone to leave because she certainly should not be around other people. For Merlin's sake, she was not coping like a normal person should! She needed to lock herself up in her room and not come out until she wasn't feeling angry, sad, completely fu-

"Hermione, I had accidently poured that Muggle peroxide on my shirt when I was using the bathroom. If ound out a few weeks ago that it keeps away Andions, you see, and spells couldn't properly fix my shirt. I borrowed one of yours from your closet and…"

Frowning at the frozen chicken, Hermione turned away from it and focused on Luna who was levitating several articles of clothing in the air which were spattered with white powder. Saying nothing, she placed her head back into the freezer and screamed.

And screamed some more.

And did it again.

"Don't do that, Hermione. You haven't even seen the rest of your closet. You can scream then, but I am really sorry. We can clean this up. We just…need to find some place to put it."

"I don't know," Hermione rasped and pulled her head out of the freezer again and whipped around to face Luna, her hands up in the air in surrender. "How about up my nose?!"

An *ahem* startled Hermione and Luna and they both turned their heads to see Blaise. Luna gave a frightened 'eep' and let the clothing fall to the floor, a white cloud billowing up from the garments.

"It's not what you think," Hermione burst out and rushed towards the fallen clothes, standing in front of them as if to hide them, as if he hadn't already seen them.

"No?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, disgust in his eyes, and Hermione's stomach took a flying leap up to her throat. He thought of her as a…

"I'm not." She shook her head violently. "I swear I'm not. This is all a huge misunderstanding. I know what you're thinking." She chuckled like she was in pain, like she knew she was in deep shit. "And I would think the same thing to. I mean, you come here and probably heard things and it probably sounded like…things, and it's not…things."

"I can't believe you, Granger," Blaise scoffed. "I really can't. I would never have thought you as a-"

"I'm not! I'm really not!"

"With Alex in the house? I'm going to have to report this."

"No!" Hermione charged towards him and stabbed her wand into his chest. "Don't even think about it, you smarmy arsehole! Say anything to anyone, and I'll-"

"Kill me?" Blaise mocked and then glared at her. "You are putting Alex in danger with your habit."

"I don't have a bloody habit, and no, I won't kill you. I can Obliviate you!"

Swiftly, Blaise unsheathed his wand and stuck it under Hermione's chin, making her go rigid.

"Luna," she called for her friend.

"This is between us, Granger," Blaise said and shook his head in Luna's direction, telling her to stay put.

"I'm not an addict, Blaise," Hermione whispered pleadingly. "Like I said before, this is all a big misunderstanding. By an unfortunate coincidence, I have the stuff but as much as I would like to be rid of it, I have a million and one thoughts gnawing at my brain, shouting at me that Draco's dead, that I need to tell Alex, that I need to cry, that I need Draco's parents out of town, that I need to do something else besides worrying about the damned drugs! Believe me or don't, but if you try to take Alex away from me, the last thing I do before being arrested will be Obliviating you and Draco's parents of your entire time in Salem and at least three weeks beforehand just to be sure that none of you remember him."

Blaise clenched his jaw at her, knowing she was fully capable of following through on the threat. Nevertheless, he had found Hermione in a questionable state and a decent person would contact law enforcement. Lucky for her, he was no such thing. Unfortunately for her, he knew an opportunity when he was smacked with one in the face.

"Fine." He lowered his wand from underneath Hermione's chin and placed it back into his pocket. Hesitantly, she lowered her, as well. "I believe you're not an addict, but it's still damning of you to have it inside your house."

"So you won't tell anyone? You won't try and have Alex taken away from me?" Hermione verified.

"I won't."

Hermione sighed in relief and smiled gratefully. "Tha-"

"With conditions," Blaise added and Hermione's smiled disappeared, her eyes widening in alarm.

"What? Are trying to-"

"Why, yes I am, Granger." He snickered wickedly. "I'm trying to bait you with a bargain."

"You're trying to blackmail me. It won't work."

"Won't it?" His eyebrows raised in faux surprise.

"No." She shook her head firmly.

"Did you know your friend Phoebe out in back is in law enforcement? I could just happen to take a jaunt back outside and whisper a little something in her ear?"

"She'd probably like that," Luna piped up dreamily. "She hasn't been on a date in quite some time."

Hermione's eyelids fluttered shut and she groaned, "Luna, that is not what he meant."

"I'm going to send Narcissa this way close to the evening. You will not turn her away, understood?"

"I do _not_ think so! That woman will keep her distance from Alex."

"Fine," Blaise lightly clipped smugly. "I'll send Lucius."

"You'll send no one. I refuse to be manipulated. Besides, that monster is in jail right now, and the US law doesn't take kindly to foreign posers like him. His name or money wouldn't even buy him a better cellmate."

This was news to Blaise. Lucius was in jail? He had been gone for quite a while the previous night, so Blaise journeyed down to the hotel bar, met a couple of ladies, and…That reminds him.

"Can I use your Floo?" he asked while sticking his hands into his pockets which was silly because he knew his wallet wasn't there.

"No," Hermione replied blankly.

"I was robbed earlier this morning. I need to make a few calls."

Her lips twitch in amusement, mirth igniting her eyes. "Did you know my friend Phoebe out in back is in law enforcement? You could happen to take a jaunt out back again and whisper your predicament into her ear. I'm sure she could help you."

Blaise nodded abashedly and scratched the back of his head with a grimace. "I walked right into that one, but I would really like to temporarily put a hold on my accounts. The police are not going to be able to do that for me, are they? I would appreciate it if I could use your Floo."

"I would appreciate it if you left Alex and me the hell alone."

"You know, I think I will take a little jaunt outside and have a few words with Phoebe. I'm sure she'd love to hear about what's going on in your closet."

"I can Obliviate you now, Zabini," hissed Hermione and pointed her wand at him again.

"I think I'll go outside," Luna said and scurried out into the backyard.

"I'll block it," Blaise confidently replied.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. "You won't. You'll delay."

"Unlike you, Granger, I make sparring a hobby of mine."

"You think you know what my hobbies are?"

"I'm sure being a single mum and a book-peddler keeps you on the ready for an attack," he drawled, his voice flooding with sarcasm.

Smirking, Hermione lowered her wand and folded her arms. "Zabini, have you ever actually _Stunned_ anyone?"

"Of course I have," he snorted.

"Mmm. Let me rephrase that question. Zabini, have you ever actually _Stunned _anyone outside of sparring? Have you ever shot a spell at someone with _real_ intent to hurt them to keep them from hurting you?" Blaise opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, "Yeah, I didn't think so."

"I lived through the war, too, Granger," he defended.

"You lived through the war, but you didn't fight in the battle. You ran. I remember. You Disapperated as fast as you could."

"Pointing out I'm a coward, are you?"

"No." Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm just pointing out that you have never really had to fight, so when I say I can Obliviate you, I _will_."

Glaring at her, loathing evident in his eyes because he saw her an immovable barrier from what he wanted so badly, he informed heatedly, "Be that as it may, but it'll be you who will only _delay_ what will eventually happen. Make me forget, make Draco's parents forget will only give you days. We'll find our way back to this house, knocking at your bloody door with your bloody friend Phoebe and her team to arrest you for drug possession and performing a spell that is considered an Unforgiveable here. Why are you being so bloody stubborn, woman? Just meet with Draco's mum this evening. Alex doesn't even have to be here. Send him to a friend's house. Will you please talk to her, Hermione? I don't want to have to blackmail you, but I want Narcissa to at least meet Draco's son. You have no idea how hard his death has been on her. Imagine if you had lost Alex, and you were put into a situation like Narcissa is in. You'd want that closure, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would, but that would be an entirely different situation!" Hermione argued defiantly.

"How so?"

"Well, for one, I will _not_ lose Alex. For another, I am not a horrible woman with a horrible husband."

"Bloody hell, Granger! How did Draco ever put up with you? You have got to be the most tenacious beast there ever was. It just had to be you, didn't it? Out of all the witches he shagged, it had to be you he got pregnant. If it were any other woman, I swear to Merlin, the kid would already be at Malfoy Manor terrorizing all the portraits."

"Well, I am not any other woman! I am _me_ and a good mum and will protect my son from those who wish to harm him, even if _those_ can't see they're going to!"

"Oh my Gods!" he moaned into his hands, his head bowed, praying a lightning bolt would break through the woman's rooftop and fry her to death. It was rare of him to ever wish ill-intent upon a female, especially a pretty one like Granger. Fetching or not, though, she was hell in its goriest form. "You are such a bleedin' bitch! How can you stand it?!"

"I am a mum and if I'm not a bleedin' bitch about my child, then I'm not doing my job right!"

Making a growling noise in the back of his throat, he pointed to the window beside them that showed the backyard. "I'm going outside and telling Phoebe to check your closet before she leaves for the afternoon."

"Don't you dare!"

"Will you agree to see Narcissa tonight?"

"No," Hermione said between clenched teeth.

"The choice is made then." Blaise turned to leave and Hermione grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait. Just wait, please," she pleaded. He shirked her hand and shook his head.

"I'm done waiting. It's either you agree now, or I tell Phoebe."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione tipped let her head fall back while an aggravated groan tore from her lips. This wasn't fair. This wasn't real. This was just a nightmare, and she would wake up any minute where Draco was alive and well and no drugs were in her closet.

"Granger, I'll give you five seconds," offered Blaise.

Tears began to build up in her eyes and she sniffled, misery so blatant on her face. "Fine."

"So you'll meet with her? With Narcissa?"

"Yes," Hermione said like someone punched her in the gut. She looked around her kitchen and then at the window, a tear falling down her cheek. "But not here."

"Where then?"

"I don't know."

"Pick a place or I'll tell her to come here."

"_I don't know!_"

"I'll tell Narcissa to be here at seven then."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed and then rubbed her eyes tiredly. "No, no, no. I'll meet her at…Marnella's."

"Marnella's? Where is that?"

"It's an establishment on Gallows Street, a block away from the hospital."

"And you'll be there at seven."

Silence.

"Granger, you _will _be there at seven, or I will be making a Floo call to the police."

Hermione glowered at him something fierce, "I'll be there."

* * *

**A/N:** Hey! So I told you the blow had a purpose. 'Twas not random. I knew what I was doing. And blah, blah, blah! Anyway, hope the chapter was fun and aggressive because that's how it was for me when writing it.

A big thanks to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who dig the fic enough to put it on their favorite list.

Thank you to: **Angelus Draco, Vaneesa85, and Jordana Babe** for the reviews. All of you said very nice things. I like when nice things are said so thank you!

To **Vaneesa85**: I'm sorry I didn't have Hermione change into her uniform...in this chapter. *Waggles eyebrows* Perhaps in later chapter, we'll see her slip that skirt and shirt on.

I'd love to hear some feedback about the chapter. My sister asked me if I wanted a present for the New Year which is silly because my family doesn't exchange gifts for this holiday, but I told her I wanted the rest of my Spring tuition paid for. Needless to say, I won't be getting that since she asked for the same thing. (Great minds think alike) However, I'll take reviews with a smile. Words last longer than money, anyway. Hope everyone has a great New Year's Eve and Day! I'll update soon!


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favors my fic. Hope everyone's New Year Holiday was fantastic!

**Thank you: psych522, Angleus Draco, alina290, bicycletracks, hkmac, and guest** for the reviews.

**To psych522:** Thank you for your read. It's not easy to read something that's not your style, so I am thrilled and humbled by your perseverance. I hope you'll enjoy the ride.

**To Angelus Draco:** I agree that Blaise needs a spanking for his bad behavior. I appoint myself to be the one to do inflict his punishment. ;p

**To alina290:** You're very welcome!

**To bicycletracks:** Thank you so much for the reviews and, yes, blow means the drugs.

**To hkmac:** I'm glad you are enjoying the story. Thank you for the review.

**What is blow?** According to OnlineSlangDictionary, International Movie Database, and Bruce Porter, writer of the book _Blow_ which was then made into a film starring Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz, blow is to snort (cocaine). Furthermore, the term blow is one of many slang words for the drug.

I now present Chapter 19! Read and Review, please. Also, if you feel the need to criticize, I ask that you do it constructively, so I can better my work in the future. If you don't and are simply mean in the name of being opinionated, then I have no choice but to bombard this site with horrid writing. Thank you.

* * *

"You got her to agree with a meeting?" Lucius asked in intrigue before sticking the mouth piece of his pipe into his mouth. He sat in his hotel room on one of the sofa chairs next to the furnace while Narcissa sat next to him in the other with a cup of tea in her hand, hope glistening in her eyes.

"Yes," Blaise answered while pouring himself a cuppa Room Service had delivered to the room for Narcissa.

"Oh, Darling," Narcissa said happily and reached over to place her hand on her husband's. "This is wonderful. I can't wait to see our grandson." She turned back to Blaise, not noticing his contrite stare. "You said it was his birthday today. I should go get him a present. What do little boys like these days?"

"Is he too young for a broom? While returning to the inn today, we passed by that broom shop, didn't we, Cissa? They had those training brooms displayed in the window. Very nice, very nice, indeed," mentioned Lucius and took another puff of his pipe before asking Blaise. "Now how did you get her to agree to the meeting, my boy? She was quite hostile with me. I'd like to know how you got out of there alive."

"Oh, you two," Narcissa scoffed and batted a hand. "She's obviously come to her senses. She must have realized Alex needs his grandparents with Draco no longer here." She checked her watch and set her cup and saucer down on the glass table beside her and walked towards the door, picking up her purse from entry table. "I think I have time to for a bit of shopping before the meeting. You said at seven, right?"

"Yes, but-" Blaise tried, Narcissa cutting him off.

"Perfect." She waved goodbye at the two men before bustling out the door. The younger man groaned and looked at his tea in question.

"I think I'm going to need something stronger. Hope you don't mind but," Blaise pulled out a flask from his inner coat pocket and poured what he called 'vitamin D' into his cup, "I think I need this."

"You barely made it out of there alive, didn't you?" inquired Lucius with a quirked brow and nodded in empathy. "She's quite vile, isn't she? I worry for the child's manners."

"Alex has the manners of an eight year old begat by a Muggle-Born," muttered Blaise, remembering how the boy scarfed down his birthday cake.

"Ah, yes, you got to speak with him today. I dare hope his mother planned a decent party for him."

"He looked like he was enjoying himself," Blaise replied with twitching lips, thinking of Alex's laughter while telling the boy and his friends about Draco's early childhood.

"So I ask again, Blaise. How did you get her to agree with the meeting? I couldn't even get a bloody word in last night." The man then smirked knowingly. "You charmed her, didn't you? Flirted and acted like a true gentleman."

The younger wizard snorted and took the seat Narcissa vacated, leaving his tea on the counter and settling for his flask.

"I'm afraid, my good man, that shite doesn't work on her, especially now with…with Draco not being here. She'd probably think me even more abhorrent if I had started commenting on her physical features not long after telling her the news."

"Then how did you get her to agree?"

Nursing his flask, Blaise swallowed with a hum and looked at Lucius with a cringe. "That I can't tell you."

Lucius stroked his chin and pursed his lips. "Hmm. Interesting. Blackmail. You got something on her, I assume. I like your style, son. Is it any good? The leverage, I mean?"

"That's an understatement, Mr. Malfoy. An understatement in its shiniest form."

Lucius frowned and narrowed his eyes into slits at Blaise. "If it was that good, how come you only settled for a damned meeting? You could have made her return to England with the boy."

"That woman was barmy enough to chance her secret being exposed than agree to anything more than a meeting. Speaking of, I tried to tell this to you both when the Misses was here, but Hermione only agreed to meet with her and no one else. You can't be there. I can't be there. Alex _won't_ be there."

"This is absurd! Narcissa and I want to meet the boy!"

"I did the best I could, but that woman is thoroughly mental. I have no idea what Draco even saw in her."

"Funny you should say that. Years ago, I wondered that myself. He may have been able to hide it from his mother and his friends, but I knew he took a fancy to her back in school. He seemed to enjoy talking about her when he would return home during the holidays or summer; although, kind words were never said. What say you? You were around him those years more than I. Did he talk about her in school?"

Blaise smiled wryly. "You know, thinking back, I can recall times he bemoaned her existence but…" It was considered blasphemy to speak of private events and or private discussions of which had been held in the Hogwarts dungeons where the Slytherins dwelt. But a graduated viper could talk a little hush, hush business to another if needs be. "He was not the only one down in the pit exaggerating their hatred for her."

"You?" inquired Lucius in mild surprise.

"No," he answered honestly. At the time, he hadn't thought Granger to be worth a waste of his own breath.

"I am curious to know who else Miss Granger besotted, but I do find it all quite odd. She's rather hostile, and I can't imagine any respectable lad tolerating it. How did my son not go around the twist with that beast's voice screeching in his ear?"

"I'm sure if his visits had been more frequent," snickered Blaise and then sobered quickly. "He visited her and the boy a few times a year. I don't recall telling you that."

"Good to know. So not often then." Lucius nodded thoughtfully. "It explains how I cannot recall him leaving England unless on business. I suppose he lied to me and Cissa about some of those trips. Have you spoken personally with Miss Granger regarding her and Draco's relationship?"

"Yesterday, she did give me some insight on their relationship earlier in the child's life but not much. I'm assuming, given the circumstances with Draco's engagement to Astoria, Hermione's and his romantic life did not last which is expected if she was here and he was back home the majority of the time."

The two men discussed the 'what ifs' and assumptions of the small amount of information they had about Draco, Alex, and Hermione. The conversation eventually shifted back to what would occur that evening at Marnella's and made jokes and comedic theories on how the whole bloody thing would go awry, and they would be back to square one.

Blaise had shared his flask with Lucius, their tongues loose and thoughts bare.

Actually, Blaise started taking pretend nips at the flask once Lucius began sniffling when reciting a memory of young Draco gallivanting through the Manor hallways with bottled quill ink stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Cheeks rosy and eyes red-rimmed, Lucius wheezed, "He wasn't yet six and had swiped some of my ink from the office and was running about the property leaving little black handprints in his wake. Got the whipping of his life once I finally caught up with him. It took me a little time to figure out to follow the giggles and not the handprints. He was leading me astray with those. On purpose. He was cunning, even then." His smile was proud and liquid-y. "But like a baby chick, he couldn't keep quiet to save his rump.

"The handprints had to be removed, naturally, but Cissa had wanted to keep them, wanting a token of his younger years. Draco was going to grow and causing childish mayhem would no longer appease him. She wanted a reminder of that innocence, but I brushed off her want. I thought it uncomely to have little, tiny *sigh* black handprints peppered on the carpet, walls, and portraits. His hands were so small. For his age, he was so small, so little. Who knew he would grow as tall as he did? Is Alex small?"

"Very," Blaise hoarsely whispered, his own eyes burning. He watched Lucius sigh heavily and lean his head back against the chair with closed eyes. He took the flask from the man's slackening fingers and eyed it with a betrayed frown. Perhaps he should cut back on the drinking. Nothing emasculated a man like a rare brew of Ogden's Finest.

* * *

Narcissa looked at her watch and at the clock on the wall to make sure the time was not lying to her.

Miss Granger was late and Lucius and Blaise were not there either.

All of them were thirteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds late to be exact.

"Another refill on your wine, Ma'am?" asked her server with a bottle ready in his hands.

"Yes, please," she replied and checked her watch again.

"Are you waiting for someone? I can get another glass if you'd like."

Narcissa hid her frown with a polite smile. "You know, that would be lovely." Having a drink ready for Miss Granger might put things off to a good start…if she actually made herself present.

The woman peered at her surroundings, hoping to find a girl with bushy curls and a rail thin body. Those attributes were all she could remember of how Miss Granger looked like the last time she saw her. The girl had also been filthy with ragged clothes and eighteen years old, so Narcissa was aware she may not recognize a thirty-one year old version.

When the waiter returned with the extra glass, he asked, "Our special tonight is the Tomato Florentine if you are interested, Ma'am. Would you care for a bowl while you wait for your friend?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," Narcissa said with a pleased grin but sighed in exasperated aggravation when he left.

Marnella's was a nice restaurant with a classy bar in the middle of the room. Narcissa wondered why Hermione decided to meet there and with Alex. She did not want to be presumptuous, but the establishment seemed a bit out of Miss Granger's price range. From the way Lucius described the woman's home, money was something she did not have ample amounts of.

"Mrs. Malfoy," a woman's voice tore her out of her musings and she hurriedly turned her head, excitement speeding up her heart.

"Miss Granger?" she inquired, wanting to be sure the woman was who she hoped for and, like she thought earlier, Hermione looked nothing like she did thirteen years ago. In place of the skinny child with unruly hair was a fully developed woman with thick, but tamed, brown curls held back in a bun away from her surprisingly lovely face. She had nice bone structure, a small but pretty mouth, and almond shaped brown eyes. Her figure was of one who did not mind a full meal followed by dessert. The attire she chose to wear was uninspiring and not at all what someone should where to such an elegant establishment. How did the girl get passed the Maître'd wearing Muggle jeans, Bearpaw boots, and a thin gray, zip-up jacket?

Miss Granger must've felt her scrutiny, for the younger witch raised an eyebrow, tearing Narcissa out of her stupor.

"I'm sorry," the older witch apologized stiffly, trying her best not appear offended at Hermione's complete lack of etiquette for her and their surroundings. She gestured to the empty chair across from her with the full wine glass. "Have a seat. I ordered a drink for you. Do you like white wine?"

"I don't drink," Hermione clipped and eyed the chair like she knew it would burst into flames the moment her bottom touched the cushion.

Narcissa bit her tongue and pressed her lips together so tightly, they started to tingle. She then realized Hermione was there alone. Where was the boy?

"Where's the boy?" she stumbled out and blushed from mortification and put a hand to her mouth and winced, the excitement she felt earlier rapidly diminishing with each second.

Hermione glared at her. "He's not here nor was his presence part of the agreement between Blaise and me. Did he not tell you that?"

"No," Narcissa said, disappointment in her tone, but she would not lose hope. Breathing deeply to pick herself up, she continued, "And that's perfectly fine. To be expected, actually. It's good mothering on your part. It's unwise to introduce your children to strangers."

Hermione's glare turned acidy, and she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the returning waiter. Thank Gods for small but needed disturbances.

The waiter placed the bowl of soup in front of Narcissa and then noticed Hermione, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise before slowly gliding them up her form before asking with even more politeness than he displayed with the older witch, "Is your seat unaccommodating, Miss Granger? Would you like me to provide you one with a fuller cushion from the brandy room?"

"No thank you, Mr. Li," she said and hesitantly lowered herself into the chair across from Narcissa.

"I'll get this out your way." The waiter, Mr. Li, took the wine glass from her with a grin. To Narcissa, it was the kind of grin a person gave another when both were thinking the same thing. "I'll bring you some mint tea."

The waiter left them but not without molesting Hermione with his fixated gaze once more. Feeling scandalized and more than a little offended, Narcissa smiled a forced one and asked her, "You're a regular here, I assume. It is a nice place. _Nice_ staff." She was unable to prevent her tongue from accentuating the word 'nice' with an undertone of aversion. Hermione and Mr. Li obviously knew each other well. He knew she didn't drink and preferred mint tea over any other teas. And Narcissa may be a prude, but she knew men. She knew there were two types of leers men gave women: the 'I think I may like what's underneath your robes' look and the 'I _know_ I like what's underneath your robes' look.

"No, I'm not. I've never been here, actually," Hermione informed in a matter-of-fact tone as she scanned the area around her, her eyes lingering here and there. "I've only heard about it through friends."

Hermione's comment bewildered Narcissa. If the girl had never been to Marnella's, why did she choose to meet there? To see the waiter? To show Narcissa how little Draco's memory was worth to Hermione by parading her lover whose employment was to wait tables?

Polite and patient façade stripped away, Narcissa licked her teeth and flared her nostrils, an insult on the tip of her tongue but stopped short of saying it. Instead, she gathered what little decorum she had left and grasped onto reserved groveling. "I'm sorry for Lucius' behavior last night. He should have not done what he did."

"No, he shouldn't have," Hermione agreed coldly, and Narcissa's hackles rose up and she balled her fists, her new manicure digging into the palms of her hands.

"So you haven't been here before?" Narcissa asked breathily, her composure dwindling to nothing. "Did you come for the waiter then? Do you come for him often?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, and Narcissa's hands flew to her mouth and started shaking her head. Oh dear, oh dear! She did not say that. She would never say that. What kind of societal, high-class woman would say that to another person and especially in such a public place? Especially with the circumstances. Was she or was she not trying to get into Miss Granger's good graces so she could see her grandson. Blessed Morgana, she should have held her tongue. A lady of her standing did not stoop to such crass verbiage.

"Excuse me?" Hermione hissed, her cheeks reddening in fury.

"I am so sorry, Miss Granger. I can't believe I said that. I don't know what came over me. I'm usually more reticent and polite."

"You probably are for those who you deem more important than I!" she hissed, keeping her voice low as to not draw attention to the table.

Closing her eyes and scoffing, Narcissa felt tears stinging her eyes. The night was going horribly. If there had ever been a chance to meet Alex before, there certainly was not one anymore thanks to her. She should have not taken the intimacy between Miss Granger and Mr. Li so personally. It was Hermione's business and had nothing to do with Draco and most certainly not her. The reason why the younger witch invited her to Marnella's was still a mystery, but there were more pressing matters to discuss.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa sadly laughed and opened her eyes. "At this moment, there is no one more important to me than you."

Expectedly, the girl tossed her a dubious expression. "You're only saying that because you want to meet Alex."

"Of course I am and of course I do because it's the truth. You are the one person blocking everything I feel I have lost. From a mother to a mother, I beg you, let me see him."

"From a mother to a mother, Mrs. Malfoy, you have to know it's not that simple." The younger witch shook her head and rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward, and Narcissa tried hard to no chastise her for her lack of elegance.

"It can be if you let it," Narcissa urged.

"Fine then. I _can't_ let it be that simple, and…and seeing Alex won't bring back what you've lost. It won't bring back Draco, and Alex is not him. He's not his dad."

"I know," Narcissa whispered, more to herself than to Hermione.

Mr. Li came back with the tea, taking longer than necessary to place it in front of Hermione.

"Thank you," she told him when he finally managed to set the cup and saucer on the table.

"You're very welcome, Miss Granger," Mr. Li said and then proceeded to take his time leaving the table. "Would you care for the Tomato Florentine, as well?"

"No, I'm fine, Mr. Li."

"Something sweet, then? There is one more slice of French Vanilla Merengue cake for the evening."

Narcissa watched Hermione's jaw tick before opening her mouth, and the older witch could practically see the reprimand on the tip of her tongue. But then, the girl's mouth closed and then pursed. "One slice left, you said?"

The waiter finally departed but would return soon with Miss Granger's cake. Narcissa had been right about the dessert bit.

Picking up her wine glass, she daintily sipped her drink and then sat it back down upon suggesting, "Let's not discuss Draco right now. Perhaps not even Alexander at this moment. What I'd like to discuss is you, for now. I practically know nothing about you, Miss Granger, and if I may never properly meet my grandson, I want to be sure he is being raised more than sufficiently. I think that's fair, don't you?"

Hermione said nothing at first, letting the ticking seconds purposely stab at Narcissa. Her brown eyes skimmed over her surroundings again to be sure the people she knew would be there were still there. She then set her focus back on Draco's mother and leaned forward and asked, "Mrs. Malfoy, do you know why I chose Marnella's?"

Narcissa was put off by her question entirely. True, she had wondered the same thing, but it was an odd and abrupt question.

"For the cake?" Narcissa guessed.

Hermione shook her head. "I've never had the cake before. Like I said, I've never been here."

"The staff, I presume?" Narcissa guessed again, this time with edginess in her tone. "Miss Granger, what are you-"

"I chose this place because it's Saturday night. Do you see that man over there sitting at the bar sipping at his martini?" Hermione pointed to a pumpkin-shaped man with a thin mustache and pointed goatee who was chatting with the barkeep jovially. "His name is Mr. Lau Chan and every Saturday night, he comes to Marnella's and orders three vodka martinis while he waits for his nineteen year old mistress to arrive. Her name is Darlene Farnswick, and she sells coffee and pastries for a living. Never mind her, though, because Mr. Lau Chan is my solicitor. Despite his infidelity towards the misses, he is considered the top attorney in the north eastern region of the States. A few years ago, I had to file a lawsuit against some very well-to-do individuals with equally impressive attorneys. Believe it or not, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Lau Chan won my case."

"What are you trying to say, Miss Granger? That you have a good lawyer? Is it necessary to contact our advocates?"

"Apparently so. I know it's belated, but I apologize for being late. I received an owl," Hermione paused to stick her hand into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, "from a Mr. John Woods forewarning me of legal actions that may occur if I do not grant you and your husband visiting rights to my son."

Narcissa inwardly groaned and sighed, her shoulder sagging. The blasted buffoon of lawyer was not supposed send the letter until Monday. That was the agreement! She had sent Mr. Woods a quick Owl before coming to Marnella's saying she would persue the legalities if Miss Granger continued to be stubborn, and she would contact him with the go-ahead on Monday.

"I'm so glad I chose this place." Hermione's smile looked forced and shattered. "And not just because my lawyer is here. See that man over there in the far right corner?"

Narcissa did not look at where her finger was pointed but stared blankly at Hermione.

"He actually lives in Boston, but every weekend he visits this humble town of Salem to see his children and chats with the officers at the police station. His daughter-in-law owns this restaurant, so he dines here with his son and wife on Fridays or Saturdays. It looks like I'm quite lucky he chose tonight to be here. Did I mention he's an Auror?"

Narcissa's nails broke into the skin of her palms, feeling the wet sting of the tiny open wounds. Lifting her chin and slitting her eyes, she squared her shoulders and regrouped. She was not going let this little, smart-mouthed tart of a Mudblood get the best of her. She should have been prepared, but who knew Hermione Granger, War Heroine and friend to the Chosen One, was conniving as she was dangerous. But most women transformed into unpredictable creatures when becoming a mother. Narcissa thought she had been impressively cunning in her younger years during her Hogwarts days, but the truth was, she had never been more of a hazard as of when she gave birth to Draco, when she first held him.

"I care little that there's an Auror here, Miss Granger. It's unavoidable to be swarmed by the authorities when visiting another country because of what the war did to the Malfoy name."

"No." Hermione shook her head. "What your husband did to the name, and it's recognizable here in the States, as well. It broke Draco's heart when I told him his son could not attend school with his last name, but there was no way Alex would have been granted admittance, regardless of money or talent, if the name Malfoy had been attached. I had to put my last name on the papers."

Narcissa cocked her head to the side and frowned at Hermione. "Does the boy have the Malfoy name on his birth certificate?"

"Not that it matters, but yes. Legally, his last name is not my own."

Hermione felt a shift in the air between her and Narcissa. The woman's rigidness, which had be constant since her arrival, deflated. Her cold, cautious eyes widened and then slanted, a smirk forming on her lips.

"Oh, Miss Granger, it most certainly does matter."

"Here's your cake, Miss Granger." Mr. Li appeared with the plate of a four-layered slice of French Vanilla Merengue Cake and a fork. He placed it in front of Hermione and winked at her before leaving. He didn't see Narcissa move her forgotten bowl of soup side, grabbing the fork and sliding the dish towards herself, taking a bite with a triumphant grin.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N**: A big thanks to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put the fic on their favorite list.

Thank you to: **Guest, Andykins, Analelle, Silver doe 3, Angelus Draco, Katherine Julia, Jordana Babe, and chyaraskiss** for the reviews.

**A little something about the chapter**: I'm introducing another made up character of mine. I thought hard about which Harry Potter character could pull off what I wanted to happen, and no one could pull it off nor would any post-war HP character have the gumption to do so. Like I said, I had to make one up. I expect he'll be hated.

Also in this chapter, there will not be any Hermione or Narcissa. I'm sorry, but we'll see them next chapter. There was only room enough in this chapter for a select few, and those troubled ladies didn't make the cut.

I now present Chapter 20! Read and Review and tell me what you think if you'd like. I'm sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

Philip Jacobson received a droll look from the bartender, so he smiled reassuringly at him with a 'how do you do' nod and pointed at his glass. "Another, please, if you don't mind?"

The bartender smiled back at him quizzically and said, "Your glass isn't empty, sir."

Philip flicked his eyes to the full glass and then back at the bartender. "That it isn't. Good to know." He lifted up the glass. "Cheers," he saluted and took a sip and put his focus on the two ladies on the opposite side of the room. He placed his glass back down and lightly pressed his fingertip to his earlobe and muttered, "_Finite Incantatem_," and mentally thanked George Weasley for upgrading his Extendable Ear product into a spell a few years ago. The Charm was of the 'need to know' variety but quite handy for those whose profession depended on other's private business.

"So where are you from? You've got an accent," the bartender chatted while polishing a wine glass.

Phil turned his attention back to him and replied with a smirk, "It's not I who has the accent, sir, it's you. Since you asked so politely; though, I'll answer your question. I'm from England."

"London parts?"

"Yes."

"Visiting the US? How are you liking your stay in Salem?"

"It's a lovely town with lovely people."

"Are you visiting for business or pleasure?"

"That's an excellent question." Phil smiled widely and took another sip of his drink. "Excellent, indeed. I say that because when I first arrived here this afternoon, I thought it was for business. However, I do believe things are about to get _fun_."

The bartender raised his eyebrows and chuckled curiously. "Okay. What do you do?"

"I'm a reporter for _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_. Ever heard of it?"

"Yes. No offence, though, but I don't care for it. It's more of my girlfriend's taste. She loves the gossip, and I prefer non-fiction. But, hey, no hard feelings, man. I respect that you've gotta bring home the bacon."

"No offense taken. I, unfortunately, do work with reporters who like to milk an event or completely lie. Not me, though. I expose the truth. The world needs to know what's happening around them."

"Well, good luck to you. Hope your stay is in enjoyable."

"Oh, it will be." Phil's eyes drifted back to the two ladies at the table. "It will be, indeed, but I could use some information. Where is the International Communications Center in this town? I'd like to drop a Floo call to a friend of mine back home."

"It's on the other side of town next to the county library on Tabby Lane. Bigger than a Quidditch stadium. You can't miss it."

"Thank you." Phil gave one lasting look at the two women and then picked up his fedora and placed it on his head with a nod to the bartender and left four plinkets next to the empty glass. On his way out, he purposefully passed by the table of his interest, sneaking his Muggle cellphone out of his pocket and snapping a few photos, hoping the device wouldn't short circuit and fry in the process. Merlin knew how many times he broke his toys while merely trying to do his job. He loved magic but it could be a right bastard on his Muggle things for sure. Perhaps he should stop by that Muggle to Magic shop which was the gateway to Muggle Salem. Maybe the employees there could give him ideas on how to keep his phone and iPad from shooting sparks. First thing on the order of business; however, he needed to make a long distance call back home. He checked his watch and winced. It was going to be a suicidal call to his boss, but once she heard what he had to say, he'd be getting that shiny new office on the third floor, not Dennis Creevey. Phil's days in the basement in a shoddy cubicle were coming to a close.

Leaving Marnella's, he quickly Disapparated and arrived outside of the International Communications Center, showed his visa and identification, and was let through by the surly looking night guard. After waiting in line for about ten minutes, Phil was guided to a private booth by an attractive, leggy blonde. Inside the booth were a polished, black metal furnace, a compatible chair, and a small round table with different bowls of powder.

"For security purposes, your conversations will be monitored."

"Isn't that a violation of my privacy?" asked Phil with an upset frown. The girl, whose badge read Matilda, cocked an eyebrow to the side and canted her hips.

"If you were on your own property, but since you are on government property, technically speaking, the conversation belongs to them and they can do whatever they want with it. Will that be a problem for you?"

Shaggable? Yes. Dateable? Bloody hell, no!

"No, it shouldn't be a problem. It's a merely a business call to the slave driver back on the motherland. If you'll excuse me," Phil gestured to the bunched up red, white, and blue velvet curtain that would act as a barrier between him and the hallway. "I'll get started."

Matilda left and Phil sat down in the chair and extended his hand over to the neighboring table and scooped a little less than a handful of pinkish hued powder and tossed it into the fire.

"London, England," he said into the fire and the flames crackled. He then scooped up some green powder and flicked it into the flames. The fire turned green and he spoke clearly, "Penelope Archer's Residence."

Phil waited a few minutes for the connection to go through and for his employer to get the call and silently prayed she wouldn't ignore it given the hour it was back in London.

Finally, he heard a crisp, bright voice saying, "This is Pen."

"Thank you for taking my Floo. I'm sorry if I woke you, but it couldn't wait. This is Phil.

_"Phil, good to hear you, and no, you didn't wake me. I was already up."_

"Spectacular. Look, Ms. Archer, I have so-"

_"It's wonderful that you've called. I have good news. Dennis was awarded the new office on the third floor."_

Phil goggled into the flames. "What?! When did this happen?!"

_"An hour or so after you left the office to do whatever it is that you were going to do in the name of work," she explained lightly._

"I told you I had a story! A lead for Merlin's Sake! You can't give the office to Creevey! He doesn't even write articles. He takes bloody pictures!"

_"They say a picture is worth a thousand words, Jacobson, and you haven't written a single one in over a month. Be lucky you still have a job…maybe."_

"I told you before I left that I had a lead."

_"A lead of which you had no idea what it was. Listen, this year has been dismal for you, and the only reason I've kept you on board was because you were the one who covered Draco Malfoy's death. The first reporter anywhere to get the raw details, and six weeks ago, that was bloody fantastic. But the public has moved on completely from the Malfoys. No one cares who they are anymore because their legacy is gone. The Malfoy reputation is officially burnt to hell. Even Draco's latest squeeze, Astoria has moved one."_

"What?!" Phil sputtered..

_"Oh, yeah. Big news. When you left yesterday before lunch and didn't come back, Dennis was out having a lunch date with his fiancé at the Panda Shack and noticed the girl canoodling with that Quidditch Illustrated model Oliver Wood. Dennis got their photograph, and that's what's going to make the Front Page in the morning._

_"Okay...they weren't canoodling. She was crying into his shoulders, but the scene looked rather cozy enough to raise questions. Honestly, Phil, did you not read the pre-print of _The Daily Prophet _that's going out in the morning? And where the hell are you, anyway? Why didn't you ever return to work, and why am I going to be charged for this Floo call?"_

"Listen," Phil wheezed, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "I'm in Salem. I told you I had a lead."

_"Salem? In the States? Why are you there? I better not get a receipt for the Portkey you had to purchase to get there, Phil. _The Daily Prophet_ will not be covering your vacation."_

"I'm not on vacation! I'm on a lead! Will you please listen to me? It's concerns the Malfoys!"

_"And the Malfoys are old news! Nothing in that family is worth printing about anymore. Their glory days for headline stealers are finished!"_

This was when he started laugh, his heart thumping with delight. "But your wrong, Penny! You're so wrong! Their glory days are just beginning!"

_"Phil, have you been drinking?"_

"That's beside the point. Are you listening to me?"

_"Maybe if you say something worth my ears, I'll listen! So far, I'm bored, England's bored, and we can make Astoria Greengrass look bored!"_

"Well, tighten up your knickers because I've got something that's going to blow away the entire UK, and it has everything to do with the Malfoys and…even better…Hermione Granger."

Phil could practically see Penelope Archer nee Clearwater in her home office faced away from her desk and glaring into the fireplace behind it, donned in her heels and a Muggle suit. There would be a dubious scowl on her face while she messaged her right temple, mentally asking herself why she returned to the Magical World after the war.

"I know it sounds a bit-"

_"Unbelievable. Hermione Granger? Really, Phil? You were spouting off about the Malfoys when they are old news but decided to bring up Hermione Granger and thought that would save your arse? The Malfoys are months old. Hermione Granger is _years_ old, Phil! Years! The Golden Trio was impressive…thirteen years ago! Let me tell you how famous the Golden Trio is now. I'm picking up _The Daily Prophet_ and flipping through right now. Flipping through, flipping through and zilch! There is not a damned thing in there about them which is funny because Harry Potter's wife just gave birth to their third child yesterday! Lily Potter's birth didn't even make the paper, did you know that?! Last year, Ronald Weasley's investments in his brother's joke shoppe transformed into billions of galleons over a space of six months! Do you remember that making the paper?"_

"No, but-"

_"The only interesting thing keeping Hermione Granger's name so well-known is that no one says it. Her name has become the new Voldemort!"_

Phil cringed and shuddered, but Penelope kept on ranting.

_"They say her name is cursed because she died!"_

"That was just a rumor and the rumor _died_, and it was a ridiculous rumor. I swear, people in the Magical World think think the worst if no one has seen anyone in a while. But she's not dead, Penny, she's here! She's here in Salem. I just saw her, and I'm not lying!"

Phil heard Penelope sigh wearily. _"I'm sure you thought it was her. I know you've been dying for another headline since Draco Malfoy's death, but don't go digging for something that will only turn sour. Whatever you're doing, it's going to blow up in your face, and I'm going to have to fire you."_

"I'm not lying. I saw her. She was dining with…I hope your listening. She was dining with Narcissa Malfoy, and I caught wind of what they were talking about and-"

"You're fired."

"No!" Phil bellowed.

_"Phil!"_ Penelope moaned. _"Narcissa Malfoy? Really? Narcissa Malfoy is cooped up in her Manor, curled up into a ball, and sobbing over old pictures of her son!"_

"She's not! I have proof! I took pictures, dammit!"

_"Even if I did believe you, why would she be in Salem?"_

"That's why I contacted you. To tell you what's going on here."

_"Oh, really? And what's going there, Oh Wise One of Who is Now Unemployed?"_

"Blaise Zabini."

_"Oh, for the love of-"_

"Hear me out on this! Be patient. So Shelly, who works in the cubicle next to me, was talking to Annie in the cubicle next to her. This was where I found out that Shelly had been moonlighting as a bed-warmer for Zabini for the past three months. She was in tears because he suddenly called things off, saying he had some business to take care of in the States and was unsure of when he would return to England. Now that sounded dodgy to me so naturally I gathered my things, told you I had a lead, and went straight to the United Porktkey Associations.

"When arriving, I asked a few questions, paid a galleon here and there and hopped on the trail while it was still somewhat toasty. Blaise Zabini had purchased a Portkey for two to Salem and was not alone. According to Sasha, who likes poetry and cupcakes, Narcissa Malfoy was with him. That sounded dirty, and I've been covering the Malfoy stories for two years, so I had to follow. Of course, I was a day behind. I arrived 8am here and had to go by my instincts from thence. Asked the locals where the nicest, most expensive hotel was in town and BAM! There's Narcissa Malfoy exiting the hotel via lobby looking like she was in rare form.

"Unfortunately, while tailing her, she Disapparated and I lost her trail…until two hours ago. I was waiting outside of the hotel, praying I'd see Zabini or Mrs. Malfoy and then who should be strolling out a few minutes before six? It's Mrs. Malfoy dressed to the nines, and this time I was lucky she didn't Disapparate. She did a bit of shopping, bought odd things but thought nothing of it at the time, and then took a carriage a whole two blocks, and I was able to follow. The carriage took her to some upscale restaurant where I had to transfigure my attire, so I wouldn't stick out like a Hippogriff in a bed of white lilies. Told the Maître'd I'd like a seat at the bar. He let me choose my seat, and I got a view of Mrs. Malfoy alone at the table. Minutes ticked by, and I started to feel antsy. Not long, though, and a woman shows up, and I can't believe my bloody eyes. It's Hermione Granger lookin' fit and not at all dead and with an ingenious whispered Charm, I was able to eavesdrop on their entire conversation. Penny, you are not going to believe what I rudding heard!"

_"I _don't_ believe anything I just heard, Phil!"_

"I have pictures, and if you truly thought I was lying about any of this, you would've disconnected the call earlier. You didn't, so you must believe something, Pen."

_"I believe I heard an interesting story that is a complete lie but an imaginative one. I'll give you points for it but no stock."_

"I have pictures! I will send them to you. You'll get them by noon London time, but Pen, I haven't told you the best part."

_"Do I have to hear it? I think I want to go to bed now."_

"You're dying to hear it, aren't you? You know I couldn't have cooked up all that."

_"Just…_Say it!_ What were the lookalikes of Narcissa Malfoy and Hermione Granger discussing?"_

"Well, it took me a minute to figure it out but-"

"_Phil!"_

"Draco Malfoy had a child!"

Phil actually _heard_ Penelope suck in a breath, and he grinned.

"_What?!"_

"Draco Malfoy has an effing child here in Salem and the bleedin' mother is Hermione Fluffing Granger, Pen! Did you hear?! Did you hear what I said?! A child! No! A _son_! His name is Alexander, and his father was Draco Malfoy!"

"_Phil!"_

"What?!"

_"Did you take those pictures with your cellphone?"_

"Yes, I have them right in my pocket."

"_Phil!"_

"What?"

_"You said you listened in on their entire conversation?"_

"Yes."

"_Phil!"_

"Pen?"

_"Do you have a vial on your person?"_

"Yes. Why?"

"_Phil!"_

"…yes…?"

_"Get to Muggle Salem this instant and send me those damned pictures. I expect to see them on my phone in ten minutes. Phil, I want that conversation on my desk by ten o'clock in the morning."_

"I can't send the memory to you that quick. I still have to find an owl and-"

_"Then get going before I really fire your arse. This story belongs to the UK, you fool! This entire bleedin' conversation is being listened to by the Yanks!"_

"I doubt the American government cares about the progeny of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. It's not a threat against national security. Oh wait…" Phil snickered. "If you think future-wise, it may very well be."

_"Don't be cute! I'm betting someone up there in that building is dying to get their wallet heavier. Christmas is coming, you know? Leave. Now!"_

The fire diminished into smoke, and Phil fell sideways off the chair, scrambling in haste to get out of the booth, out of the building as soon as possible. The blasted stars and stripes curtain wouldn't move fast enough and wasn't that just ironic. He finally breathed the air of the hallway and jogged down it towards the elevator. Pounding his finger into the button, he waited for the gate to open. Finally, the lift arrived and he stepped on, the liftman and another fellow already occupying it.

"To the lobby, sir?" the liftman asked and Phil nodded. The gate closed and the elevator moved downwards at a snail's pace, the contraption stopping to pick up other people. As the lift filled, his shoulder began to brush against the fellow who had been first one on.

"I'm sorry," he apologized to the man who appeared sweaty and anxious.

"It's okay," he rushed out and chuckled nervously. "Should've taken the stairs, I guess."

"You know that's a good idea," Phil said as the lift stopped again. "I think I'll do that."

"No!" The man gripped his arm and then let it go, chuckling forcedly. "I mean…"

Phil frowned at the man and eyed him carefully and then realization hit him. "Keep the gate open!" he yelled and pushed passed the other passengers, nudging them out of his way, ignoring their curse words at him. He weaseled out of the lift and out into the hallway of the third floor and ran towards the door to the stairs and rammed it open and sprinted down the stairs. When he reached the second level, he heard running footsteps behind him. He spared a glance and saw the man from the lift following behind, his face beet red and sweaty.

"The story's mine, dammit!" he exclaimed. "It belongs to the Americans! It's happening here!"

"It's Britain's business!" Phil called behind him, reaching the first floor. "Malfoy and Granger are English!"

"The child is American!"

"You don't know that!"

"I pulled the damned kid's records when listening. He's red, white, and blue!"

"…English then?" Phil couldn't help but sass back.

"No! I meant he's American!"

Phil reached the lobby level and burst through the door and ran passed the front desk as fast as he could, throwing his pass at the receptionist and dashing towards the front door, passing the confused looking guard, and reaching Apparition Grounds. With a crack, he was in front of Muggle to Magic. Wasting no time, he opened the door and stumbled in, bending over and taking a deep breath, ignoring the stares from the customers and employees.

Having caught enough breath, he stood up and walked towards the backroom but was stopped by a young man with the name Bryce on his nametag. "Dude, that is one righteous hat, my man! Hey, have you ever needed to electronically send some awesome memories like pronto and kinda think storing them in vials and Owling them is so 1990s?"

* * *

"Penelope," wheezed Phil, his chest heaving while he rested his head against the filthy brick wall on the Muggle side of Muggle to Magic, his cellphone smashed to his ear. "Do you have the bloody pictures and the memory?"

"_Hold on, hold on. I just sat down on some icky bench by Piccadilly Circus. Let me get out my iPad and turn it on. Okay, I'm in my email and…Oh I see I have a new message from you. I'm clicking on it and…it's loading. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hol- Okay, it's ready. I'm looking at the pictures now and the memory you sent as background. Let me plug in my earphones, so I don't wake the bloke taking up most of this bench. I'm going to hang up now, and I'll call you back once I've heard everything."_

"Alright." Phil nodded and ended the call, sinking to his bottom with his legs spread out before him, his trousers dampening from the corroded, wet pavement.

Ten minutes later, his cellphone buzzed.

"Penny?" he said into the speaker. "You saw the pictures? Did you hear what they were saying?"

"_Phil!"_

"Yes?"

"_Oh. My. Gods."_

"Pen? Is it good?"

"_Oh my Gawds! Oh my Gawds! Oh my Gawds! This! Philip, this is…I'm going to pass out! I'm going to pass out! I need to breathe! How do you breathe? I can't remember how!"_

"I told you. I told you it was incredible," Phil chuckled lightly into the phone and beamed up at the sky.

"_Phil!"_

"Yes, Penny?"

"_What do you think of 'Sex, Scandal, Secrets: Malfoy Line Perseveres'?"_

"It's good, but you got to have Granger in there, too, somewhere. She can't offhandedly be mentioned in the article. She may very well be years old, Pen, but the public still knows who she is."

_"You're right. What do you suggest for your header on the Front Page of The Daily Prophet that will print in three hours and will be Owl delivered in four to each subscribed household in the UK?"_


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** I'm updating again! I know, three in a row. I'm sad to say it won't last. I won't be able to update this fic for a few days after today. I can only spoil my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who favor the fic for so long before I become broke. :)

**Thank you to:** **pysch522, igenac, hkmac, Analelle, Angelus Draco, lovemya2000, and starkidsftw** for the reviews.

**To starkidsftw:** You asked a question if Harry and Ron knew where Hermione was. Hopefully this chapter answers the question. Thank you!

In this chapter: **What did Narcissa say to Hermione?** We shall see. It was hell to write, but I think it's solid. Let's pray it is.

Enjoy the chapter. Read and Review, please, and tell me what you think. I'm sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

_"Hermione!"_

Rousing from sleep, Hermione groaned and clutched her head, a sharp throb pounding into her skull. She had cried herself to sleep when she had returned from that horrible meeting with Narcissa. Now she felt dehydrated, depressed, and her eyes were crusted over. The lids could barely flutter open, so she had to rub at them while sitting up. She was still dressed in her jeans and boots and was lying on top of the covers.

The alarm clock on her bed read 9:48 A.M., and Hermione yawned, her stomach feeling nauseous. She needed to get up and make breakfast for Alex, wake him up, and tell him about his father and then give him a vague overview of what Narcissa had told her last night so he would know, so he could be prepared for when he's older.

"_Because Alex has the Malfoy name, there will not have to be legalities concerning his inheritance."_

"_His inheritance?" Hermione inquired through gritted teeth. "Draco left a will?"_

"_In a way," Narcissa said and dabbed her lips with the cloth napkin, removing the merengue from her lips. "He did not leave a written one. Why would he have had to? He wasn't married and he was still young. But," she exhaled softly and shakily like she was trying to brush off an emotional breakdown. "Giving Alex the Malfoy name is binding in itself, leaving the boy to surely inherit everything once Lucius passes or...if he should hand over all assets before then which he had planned to do after the New Year. Draco was going to take over the company, the Manor, and all other estates and affairs._

"_You should know, Miss Granger, that my husband is aging and is quite exhausted. His father gave him his inheritance at seventeen. You can imagine how ready Lucius had been to retire. He had been looking forward to spending more time with me and prepping the Manor for grandchildren we knew we would get when Draco would marry Astoria Greengrass._

"_When Draco passed, we did not only lose a child but we thought we had lost everything the Malfoys from before had worked so hard to achieve. There is no other Malfoy, Miss Granger. If we had not known about Alex or he had not been born, those valuables would have to be liquidated upon Lucius' passing by the Ministry, including the company. Thousands of people would have lost their employment and if Alex does not take ahold of the reigns when it's my husband's time to go on, those people _will_ lose their jobs. Many will lose money because of investments in the company. Hermione, you are a business woman. You know how this works. Alex needs to come to England, so he can be schooled in the company. This is no longer a simple family feud anymore. Draco knew what he was doing when Alex was born. It was always supposed to be the boy next in line regardless if Draco had other children with another woman. In the family, all affairs go to the oldest son baring the Malfoy name"_

"_No," Hermione denied, shaking her head stubbornly. "Draco gave his respect when I said I didn't want Alex to be involved with you or anything to do with his side of the family. He told me he it was okay."_

"_And you believed him?" Narcissa inquired with a gentle grin._

Fresh tears blurred her vision and her chin wobbled at the memory from the night before. Biting her bottom lip to keep from sobbing, she wiped at her eyes and sniffled because it was unfair, and there was nothing she could do about the situation. When it was time, and it most certainly was not now, Alex would be over all the Malfoy affairs.

England could wait a little longer. Hermione's son did not need to be schooled in the company as of yet. She would put it off for as long as possible.

Planting her feet on the floor, she went to stand up but the door flew open and Luna came running at her holding a newspaper and then stopped inches away from her with a sorrowful, frazzled expression.

"Hermione, I just heard!"

Frowning at her friend, Hermione asked hoarsely, "How did you find out? I haven't told you anything. Haven't seen you since before I left yesterday to go to the restaurant. Oh and…thanks for cleaning up my closet. Where did you put it all?"

"The less you know, the better, but that's the least of your-"

"Mom!" Alex yelled, fear coating his young voice. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat at hearing her son's calling for her. She brushed passed Luna, ignoring the way she was waving the newspaper at her and ran into the living room where she found her son peeking through the curtains.

"Alex, honey, what's wrong?" she asked while approaching him.

He turned towards her and looked up at her in befuddlement. "What are all those people doing?"

"What people?" she asked and went to pull back the curtain so she could see what he was talking about.

"Don't open the curtain!" Luna exclaimed, entering the living room, newspaper still clenched in her hand. "They'll see you."

"What are you talking about? Who'll see me?" Ignoring Luna's warning, she pulled back the curtain and gasped at the swarm of people littering her front yard, many of them with cameras and Quick-Quills. One of them, a middle-aged man, noticed her and pointed.

"Look! There she is! There's Hermione Granger standing next to the window!" he shouted and ran closer to the house while snapping photos, other's doing the same. She hastily pulled the curtain closed and pressed her back against the covered window, breathing deeply.

"Who are they, Mom?" Alex asked again.

"I don't know," Hermione answered and looked helplessly at Luna. "Who are they? What is going on, Luna? What are these people doing at my house? What do they want?"

"You don't know," she stated softly, with sadness in her eyes. She shuffled towards Hermione and handed her the paper.

"What is this?" Hermione asked and took the paper and then found out it was two sets of newspapers, not one.

"_The Daily Prophet_ and _The New England Post_," Luna replied with a wince. "Hermione, I am so sorry."

Hermione unfolded the two rolled up newspapers and read the headline of _The New England Post_.

**West Coast Woodsmen Go On Strike: Demanding More Cuts from Wand Makers, Parchment Producers, and Broom Manufacturers**

"What does that have to do with those people on my front yard?" Hermione inquired with an incredulous expression on her features.

"Turn to page nine. Be grateful it didn't make the front page _here_…yet," Luna said.

Hermione turned the pages until she reached nine. In the middle section, a small header read:

**British War Heroine Found in Salem**

_According to a source, Hermione Granger, War Heroine has been found hiding in plain sight in Salem. No one is entirely sure as to why she is residing there or what's she doing other than raising her eight year old son, Scorpius Alexander Malfoy. The child is believed to be the son of convicted Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, who unexpectedly died six weeks ago in his hometown of Wiltshire, England. The news of his passing is a surprise to many in the Unites States, for the news had yet to reach here. However, the most shocking part of what has been hidden for years is this Scorpius Alexander Malfoy: The Secret Child of Two Enemies. Is the boy a product of secret love affair or are his origins more sinister? His father was a vicious Death Eater, after all._

Hermione covered her mouth and shook her head, not believing what she had just read.

"What does it say, Mom?" Alex asked, standing on his tiptoes to catch a word or two from the article that had made his his mother upset.

"No," Hermione whispered and folded up the paper. "This isn't happening. That's what all those people are here for, aren't they? The media found out?"

Luna nodded grimly. "That was just one newspaper, Hermione, with an article in the back. You haven't read _The Daily Prophet_, yet."

Feeling like she was going to vomit, Hermione didn't know if she could bear to read the other newspaper. It was going to be worse, and the safe place she had worked so hard to build, for her and most importantly her son, was cracking in the foundation, the roof breaking apart, the walls weakening.

"Hermione," Luna began gently, "are you going to read it?"

"I can't." She shook her head and a harsh sob wracked her body, startling Alex.

"Mommy?" he whimpered up at her and extended his arms. "Mommy, hold me, please."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Hermione told Luna and handed her the papers and then stooped down to pick up her son. He wrapped his arms around her neck and legs around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. "It's over. Everything is."

"Do you think Narcissa did this?" Luna asked.

Hermione shook her head while adjusting Alex in her arms. "No, I don't think so. I mean…you read the article. She wouldn't say all that. She wouldn't make it sound the way it did."

The Floo ignited and Hermione clenched Alex closer to her as Luna placed her hand inside her coat, her fingers ready to take out her wand if necessary. Blaise stepped through and marched towards them.

"You! Get out!" Hermione screamed and Alex made low keening sound in the back of throat.

"I know you're bleedin' pissed, Granger, but we do not have time to exchange pleasantries. We have to go!"

"What? Go? I'm not going with you anywhere!"

"Mommy," Alex started to cry and tightened his hold on her neck and tightened his legs around her.

"Leave my house this very instant. If you don't, Luna will make you leave!"

"You have to come back to England. You're not safe here anymore. It's especially not safe for Alex."

"What are you talking about? Go back to England? Have you gone mad?! It's going to be worse there than it is here!"

"Look!" Blaise shouted and then exhaled angrily as a pitiful way to calm himself. "Lucius and Narcissa are already back in England. About three in morning, they get an emergency Floo call from a handful of their solicitors telling them to leave Salem immediately and return home to the Manor. I promised them I wasn't going to leave Salem until you and Alex come with."

"I'm not going! I'm staying here! The news will die down soon and-"

"We don't know how long that will be. You can't hide in your home forever. Today, _The Daily Prophet_ had it all on the front page. Tomorrow, _The New England Post_ will have it, and the situation outside your house will worsen. You won't be able to return to work. Reporters, lawyers, everyone will be banging down your door asking questions. The friends you have won't want to be your friends anymore. You'll lose business on your bookstore. Here, they're making Draco look like he was some treacherous villain who…" He stopped short and gave her an infuriated glare not really meant for her. "You don't have the means to protect yourself and Alex, and he won't be able return to school because all of this. He won't be accepted here and neither will you."

"Mommy, what is he talking about?" sniffled Alex

"We won't be accepted in England, either, Blaise," Hermione spat.

"No, but people will understand better than there they will here."

"I'm not going and neither is Alex. People in England _will understand better_," Hermione repeated his words mockingly. "What a load of rubbish!"

"You won't have to deal with the people if you don't want to. Come to England for protection then. In the Manor-"

"You've got to me kidding me! Protection? Against what? Them?" Hermione nudged her head towards the window, indicating of what was outside of it. "They're as dangerous as rabid bunnies. And the Manor? You think I'll be safe there? Yes, because I was _downright secure_ on my last visit."

"Hermione, maybe you should go," Luna piped softly.

Hermione threw her an exasperated look. "No! How could you even suggest that?"

"I'm saying that because I have a feeling you should go. And remember when I said you needed some time with…everything that's happened. I think you should go."

"Go where, Mommy? To England?" Alex asked and lifted his head from her shoulder, tear streaks down his round cheeks. "Isn't that where Daddy is? Can we go see _him_ this time?"

"Oh, Sweetheart…" Hermione started and then sighed forlornly. "I don't think going would be a good idea right now. We can go someday but not right now."

"But we could see Daddy. Don't you want to see Daddy?"

"…Yes and I know you want see him but-"

"Narcissa told me what happened last night," Blaise informed her. "You and Alex are going to have to come to England eventually, Hermione. It would be better for him if the time was now. You know that."

"He still has time before it is necessary. He's still a baby! It will be better when he is older. You and Narcissa and Lucius are only saying it would be better now because they want to see him."

"Are you talking about me, Mommy? Who are Nar..Narci…I can't say the names. It's too hard. Why do grownups have hard names? You have a hard name. Daddy has a strange name. I have a strange name. Aunt Luna, I've never met another Luna."

"And you probably never will." Luna smiled endearingly at Alex. "I'm going to miss you when you go to England."

"Luna!" Hermione snapped. "Don't give him the impression he's going. We're not going."

"I will not leave until you agree to go," Blaise threatened once more.

"I will make you leave then." Hermione one handedly tried to reach for her wand in her back pocket while still holding Alex.

Blaise held his hands up in surrender. "We don't need to resort to dueling. We can sort this out like adults. You don't want to return to England right now, and I understand that, but you especially do not want to go to the Manor. If you come to England, you and Alex don't have to stay there. I'll find a place for you somewhere else.

"English reporters are on their way here now. If you make a quick exit back to England, it will throw them of your trail for a while. They wouldn't think of looking in their own backyard when they think you're here."

"I could very well go anywhere. I can hide perfectly fine anywhere, but I wasn't hiding here like many probably believe. All I did was tell Harry, Ginny, and Draco that I was moving here to attend school which I was at the time. Anyone back in England could have found me if they had cared to look but no one did. Now suddenly," Hermione gestured to the window, "I'm all interesting, again."

Blaise said direly. "It's not _you_ they think is interesting. They know_ you _are. I believe their main interest is on…someone else."

Hermione tightened her hold on Alex and glowered at Blaise. "How did the story even get out, Blaise? That's what I want to know. Everything was fine…relatively…before you and Draco's parents-_Oh shit!"_

Alex lifted his head up from his mother's shoulder and asked, "Daddy has parents?"

Biting her tongue and cursing herself, Hermione ignored Blaise's smirk of amusement and Luna's surprised expression and focused on her son. "Um…"

"He sure does, moppet," Blaise said and took a step forward. "They're back in England right now, and they are dying to meet you."

"Blaise!" Hermione screeched and bent down to place Alex on the floor who bent his knees so his feet wouldn't touch the ground, clinging to her shoulders while craning his head to look at Blaise.

"I'm done, Granger. He needs to know about them. You think they're not good enough to be around him, but let Alex decide."

"He is eight years old, Blaise. He can't decide if he wants a slice of cake or a cupcake!"

"Can I have both?" Alex asked, his tummy growling.

"Maybe we should discuss this over breakfast. Who likes waffles?" Luna chimed.

"Oooo! Me, me, me!" Alex shot up his hand, nearly knocking his mother in the face and then kicked his legs, wanting down. Hermione put him down, and he ran into the kitchen after Luna. "I want to help! I want to help!"

"He'll forget I said anything," Hermione said confidently, watching her boy climb upon the counter next to the bowl Luna had gotten out of the cupboard.

"No he won't," Blaise replied lightly. "He'll remember. If not by an hour or tomorrow, he will at Christmas when his father doesn't visit. Or maybe sooner if you tell him about Draco. He'll remember then. He'll remember you said his father had parents, and I said they wanted to meet him. Children his age can only be distracted for so long."

"Blaise, please," Hermione whispered. "I know you never liked me, but I would appreciate it if you could indulge me for a minute and lie. Tell me Alex won't remember."

"No, I won't do that. He's going to remember, and he's going to want to meet them. He's not going to want to wait until he's seventeen to meet them if that's the age you were planning on telling him about the inheritance."

Hermione looked down at her boots, her throat swelling. Sadly, she said, "I know but what if they hurt him? What if they can't accept him because he's not…Pure? What if they lie to him? What if he believes them?"

"None of that will happen. I promise. If it does…then we will get to that if we have to, but Draco's parents are not going to hurt him. Alex is all what's tangibly left of their son, and I reckon they already love him by default and would do nothing to compromise a relationship if they were to have one with him. As for him being a Half-blood, I can't say they don't care. That would be an outright lie, but they _know_ he isn't Pure, and they still want him. I'm guessing it's not their _biggest_ priority. Situations like these have happened before in history, and most of the time the child was never accepted or recognized by the grandparents. In a way, those family lines died off."

"But they won't accept me, will they?" Hermione shrugged with a hurt smile. "I've read about those Pureblood legacies which accepted Half-bloods for lineage. The grandparents never accepted the Mudblood parent."

"I think they will have to. Alex is quite attached to you."

Hermione smiled a small one which quickly vanquished and was replaced with a broken, grim line. "Yeah, he is."

"Yesterday at the party, he told me about his first act of accidental magic. It was his first day at Pre-wand school, and he didn't want you to leave him. He clung to your leg and wouldn't let go and then it became a case of he _couldn't _let go."

"It wasn't even the last time he did that." Hermione swallowed thickly at the memory. "It was back when I was all he needed and Draco was just a treat, but then he grew older and started asking questions, started noticing Daddy was not coming often enough for his satisfaction. And then it was Draco he was sticking himself, too." Thick, salty tears streamed down her face, acceptance lying heavy on her shoulders. She folded her arms protectively around herself and rubbed them with her hands. It was kind of cold in the house. "How cold is it in England this time of year? I can't remember."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Wow! In the space of just a few days, I got more reviews and readers than I thought I could ever get! Thank you so much! Thank you thank you!

**Thank you to: hkamc, Vaneesa85, Angelus Draco, Woemcat, Anjali K, Kou Shun'u, guest, psych522, Aya Diefair, Team Dramione, alina290, Andykins, and Guest. Special thanks to those who left a lot of reviews. You know who you are, and I think you're amazing!**

There were some questions and concerns from the reviews but many of them were from earlier chapters, so if there is still any tidbit that needs clarifying, feel free to ask or comment. I will suggest to my readers to not compare the Magical United States to real life United States. There are similarities, but there are differences, too. Just like Magical Britain is different from Muggle Britain: the laws, currency, and people are different. I appreciate reviews. I do. It means someone cared enough to let me know something, and I respect that. However, I don't want reviews from people who are U.S. savvy to be to be telling me my _fictional_ laws are not real. I didn't really get any of those types of reviews, but I thought I would let my readers know how I would feel about that kind of review if I ever got one. What I simply did was take one or two of the basics from _old_ but currently valid U.S. rights and generalized them, made them vague on purpose because I really don't have the time to formulate a Magical Bill of Rights or a Magical Constitution. Anyway…yeah.

Also, I made a mistake a few weeks ago and a few chapters back. I put Easter 2002. It was actually Easter 2003. Ooops. I fixed it a while ago, so there is no harm...I think.

Enjoy the chapter! Please R&R, if you'd like. I would sure love it. Thanks again!

* * *

_June 2003_

"Take the bottle, Alex. Come on. I know you're hungry. Come on, sweetheart. Eat."

Once again, Alex turned his head and stuck out his bottom lip and wailed while batting his hand at the bottle his mother presented to him. He sat gloomily and teary-eyed in his high chair, a bib of dancing (actually dancing) lambs strapped around his neck and over his clothes.

"How about some baby rice, hmm?" Hermione retrieved the tiny spoon on the tray that held a small bowl of baby rice and scooped up an itty bitty portion. He took five messy bites before extending his arms towards her and breaking out into frustrated weeps.

Hermione inwardly groaned and set the spoon aside and wiped off Alex's face and removed the bib and picked him up. The moment he was securely in her arms, his head awkwardly craned downwards and latched his mouth onto the cotton material of her shirt over her left breast and laved at it sobbingly.

For the past two months, Hermione had been trying to wean Alex off nursing by introducing soft baby foods and providing formula mixed with pumped breast milk in a bottle. The Pedia-Healer had told her it would be best if she gave Alex breast milk up until he was at least a year old which Hermione was doing but not the way her son preferred. She hadn't any qualms about breastfeeding and had planned on doing it with Alex up until a year or maybe a month or so more like the nursing books encouraged, but the little devil had started biting her.

She was aware of his discomfort with teething and how he needed some relief for the pressure, but her boobs could only take so much. When Hermione had discussed her problem with a mother at one of her cosmetic parties, the mother had suggested numbing cream to put over the skin before letting Alex suck. That sounded like a brilliant idea, and Hermione did just that, working fabulously until she detached Alex from her breast and a stream of milk poured out his little mouth, a perturbed expression on his face. His mouth had gone numb, too. She had been frightened Alex had ingested some of the numbing cream and hurriedly went to the pedia-Healer who scolded her something fierce and gave Alex a few drops of De-Numbing liquid on his tongue. Hermione then asked the Pedia-Healer what she should do, and the other woman advised two things: pump or suffer through.

Watching Alex whimper into her shirt and fail to milk the material, Hermione caved, not able to bear the retched sullen sounds from her baby.

"Alright, alright. You win," she sighed out and took him to the nursery and sat down on the rocking chair by his crib and lifted her shirt and pulled down the cup of her bra. Alex enthusiastically giggled, and Hermione's heart fluttered at the dulcet sound. He had started to giggle perfectly, instead of happy choking sounds, about a month ago and had become her addiction.

With a triumphant, drooled grin, Alex wiggled his legs in anticipation while his mother gave him what he wanted.

"Just try not to bite Mummy, love," Hermione whispered affectionately and bent her neck down to kiss him on his forehead, his curly blond hair tickling her nose. His little hand reached for her while grinning around his prize. Playfully, Hermione nipped at the little fingers and smack her lips.

"Mmmm. Baby fingers are my favorite snack," she cooed and then made a silly face causing Alex to giggle and milk and slobber to ooze over her skin.

Hermione switched breasts, grateful that Alex had not chomped on her. The moment he suctioned his mouth to other, though…

"Oh!" she squeaked in pain and clenched her teeth together and Alex laughed. She frowned down at him. "You think that's funny, do you?"

Hearing the flat door open, Hermione momentarily forgot the pain.

"Graaaaaaaaaannnnnger!" she heard the voice of who could only be Draco.

"What?" she called out, not bothering to get out her chair.

She heard footsteps coming down the hall and saw his mug poke into the room with a glower. "_What?_ That's what you have to say? _What?_ I think I deserve better than a bloody _what_. We haven't seen each other in almost two months, and you talk to me like you don't care."

Hermione scoffed and gave him an amused smile. "Oh, Malfoy, you know I care. What did you expect? For me to come rushing up to you and tackle you to the floor and have my way with you in the entry?"

"Well…" Draco lifted his chin indigently. "It is my birthday."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "It's your birthday? And you're spending it here?"

"Well, I spent most of it back home, Granger. You see…it's not my birthday in England anymore. It's just another horrid day, so I got to thinking 'why not extend this day and take a trip to see that sassy girl with the delectable arse and my boy?'"

"Oh," Hermione said, still a bit put off at his surprise visit. They had only conversed by letters the past two months but not very many. Draco, in his letters, had claimed to have a hectic schedule assisting his father's company.

_It will be my company_ _someday, Granger. I have to know all there is to know, so I can maintain profit when my father retires or passes. I do wish I had more spare time and fewer observers in my life, so I could visit Scorpius more often along with that perfect rump of yours. Since you demanded my fidelity on my earlier visit, I have abstained from the many propositions, knowing you will treat me on my next return._

_Completely whipped,_

_D.M._

His last letter had said that, and Hermione allowed herself to boil greenly with jealousy. How dare that bastard bring up how wanted he was by other women! That entire day, Hermione had imagine beautiful women, who didn't have an extra ten pounds around their tummy and hips, gluing themselves to Draco's side and whispering things into his ears. She could plainly see that intrigued smirk on his lips at each naughty word those slags whispered.

But he said he abstained, and she wanted to believe so…

"Why the pout, Granger?" Draco asked and slithered inside the nursery and fell to his knees while she continued to sit in the rocking chair. "Did you miss me that much?"

Unable to even snark back, she insecurely asked, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Draco furrowed his brow with concern and rose up on his knees and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "That's a question I thought I would never hear from you."

"You didn't answer the question," she rushed out, her throat swelling and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Because it's a barmy one."

"No, it's not. It's just a simple question with a simple answer."

"You know how I feel about you, Hermione," he replied, using her given name to give his tone gravity.

"I know how you feel about my arse."

"How about your breasts? You know how I feel about those." Draco winked and looked at the subject of his discussion in awe. "And I am most certainly fond of what's clinging on for dear life. Merlin, he's grown. I thought you said you were done with breastfeeding. Not that I'm complaining."

"Don't change the subject," Hermione said and pulled Alex away from her chest and adjusted her clothing, earning a disappointed glare from Draco.

"What do you want me to say?" He ran a hand through his hair and groaned.

Staring at him with wild eyes, Hermione barked while positioning Alex on her shoulder and rubbing his back soothingly, "You don't know what to say? You don't think I'm pretty?"

"Where is this coming from? You've never acted this way before. Not even in school. Why so suddenly self-conscious?"

Snuggling Alex, who was chewing her shirt, she sniffled, "Because."

He raised an eyebrow. "Because why?"

Hermione shrugged and directed her gaze somewhere else. "In your last letter, you mentioned all the women who have been-"

"I turned them down!" Draco exasperated. "Honestly, I did, Granger."

"Okay but…Did you want them? Were you tempted? Because…" Hermione sighed softly and buried her nose into Alex's tiny shoulder for comfort. "I know I'm not the thinnest or most beautiful girl out there. How could you not be tempted when someone better comes along?"

Draco's eyes nearly popped out of his and then he furrowed his brow, a snarl forming on his lips. "Do you fancy someone else?"

Floored by his response, Hermione tossed him an incredulous look. "Where did that come from? Here I am talking about how you could have anyone you want, and you go off on me like it's me who could have anyone! Malfoy, you stupid dolt, of course I don't fancy anyone else!"

"You could have anyone, too, Granger! Every time I get an Owl from you, I fear this is when you're going to tell me you're done with me, that you don't want me, that you found someone who can be here for Scorpius!"

Hermione stilled from his words and let out a chuckled breath. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I did." She nodded and swallowed, standing up from the rocking chair while still rubbing Alex's back. "It's probably the most dimwitted thing I've ever heard. _You _think _I'm_ going to be the one to call things off in favor of someone else. That's not going to happen."

"But you think I will?" Draco inquired and she shrugged.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because," he said and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trouser.

"Because why?"

"It's very uncommon for blokes to talk about how their women give them warm, soft feelings like no one else can."

Hermione gave him an enlightened expression. "I give you soft and warm feelings?"

Smirking, Draco who was still on his knees, lifted up his hand and cupped her breast over her shirt. "Very warm and soft, indeed."

Hermione batted his hand away and rolled her eyes, hurt in her voice when she asked, "Do I mean anything to you other than Alex's mother and bed-warmer?"

Draco groaned tiredly and placed his forehead against her stomach. "We've been over this. Bloody hell, have we ever. Granger, what do you want me to say that will make you trust me?"

Hermione peered down at him solemnly and reached her free hand down and petted his hair and caressed his face. He looked up at her, and she said, "You know what I want to hear."

With his chin resting on her tummy, he whispered, "I think you're pretty."

Fluttering her eyes shut and biting her tongue to keep from spitting profanities, Hermione forced on a pleased smile. "Thank you, Malfoy."

"Will you let me shag you now?"

Opening her eyes, Hermione sighed, loathing the empty feeling lying ironically heavy in her chest. "I have to give Alex a bath."

"After, I mean."

"I have to dress him."

"After that then."

"I have to feed him again, so he'll fall asleep."

Through gritted teeth, she heard. "When he's asleep, will you shag me?"

"I can't."

"Merlin's Bloomers! Granger, what the hell?!"

Glaring down at him, she snapped, "I can't."

"Why not?!"

"Because!" she answered.

"Because why?!"

"I'm…" Hermione gave him a pointed look which flew over his head because he gave her an 'I'm waiting' expression. "Menstruating."

"You've got to be kidding me!" He fell back on his bum and then laid down on the floor, shooting the ceiling helpless stares. "Why are you doing _that_?!"

"I can't help it! And it's been a long time coming. I haven't had a real one in eighteen months. I hate how bloated I feel and the pain, but it means things are returning to a semi-normal state and-"

"You have _fake_ ones?!"

"Yes…No." Hermione rubbed her forehead, messaging her temple to prevent the headache coming. "I'm not going to explain it to you."

"It just means we can't shag," Draco accepted sullenly.

"It means, Malfoy, you probably don't want to."

"But it's my birthday. Why does it have to be today?"

Feeling pity for him, Hermione promised, "If you help me with getting Alex ready for bed, I'll…award you in _other_ ways."

Draco sat up and grinned eagerly at her. "What _other _ways?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, she walked passed him and out of the room, her hips swinging purposefully.

Behind her, she could hear him scramble off the floor and scamper after her. Two possessive hands clamped onto her bum, and she yelped in surprise, his teeth also grazing her ear and whispered something. She froze at his words and whirled around to face him.

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

He nodded, saying nothing. She smiled, that heavy ache in her chest gone. Standing up on her tiptoes, she firmly planted her lips on his. Before things turned more passionate, she detached their mouths and whispered back, "I love you, too."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: This will be a shorter chapter. I'm sorry about that, but I didn't feel the next portion after this one fit well.

Thank you to: **hkmac, Andykins, Angelus Draco, Musette Fujiwara, Kou Shun 'u, sweet-tang-honney, guest, Aya Diefair, Melissa, and Vaneesa85** for the reviews.

**To Aya Diefair**: I do, in fact, have a little one. I am using a mixture of my own baby experiences and my sister's. :) Thanks for review. I hope you like Chapter 23, too.

Thanks to: **my readers and followers and those who placed this on their favorite list.**

Enjoy Chapter 23! Read and Review, please!

* * *

Hermione squirted baby bath gel on the damp sponge and then started scrubbing her son's upper back. He sat tranquilly in the kitchen sink half-full with warm, bubbly water while gnawing contently on a soaked dishcloth, completely ignoring the rubber duck his mother had got him a few weeks earlier.

Draco placed his hand over the sponge and took it from her. Hermione stepped to the side, letting him wash Alex, his cleansing strokes unsure but coated with fatherly determination. He guided the sponge towards the small shoulders and across the chest and underneath the chin. Alex looked up at him, his mouth full of dripping dishcloth and broke out into a delighted grin before letting loose a sharp giggle. Draco's ministrations seized and his eyes widened and glazed over, a smile of awe tugging at his lips.

"He laughs," he whispered, the lip-tugging turning into a full-proud beam.

"Yes." Hermione nodded and took Draco's hand and squeezed some baby shampoo into the palm. "Wash his hair."

He lathered the gel into the baby's hair, a grin still present. "It's a nice sound. Does he do it often?"

"Not often enough, so I have to…" Hermione's hands dove into the skin and skidded her hands across Alex's belly and underneath his arms and down to pinch a squished bum cheek. The dishcloth dislodged from his mouth and he let loose a startled squeal and burst into a fit of giggles.

Sucking in a deep, accepting breath, Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer towards him and rested his chin on her head while his other hand caressed Alex's wet back lovingly.

"I bloody miss him when I'm not here, Granger," he murmured.

"You're welcome to visit more."

A sharp exhale of distress could be heard above her head. "You know I can't visit more. Not if you want to keep this whole damned thing a secret."

"You know it wouldn't be wise to tell people. What would your parents say if you told them?"

"They wouldn't be angry forever, and it would be foolish of them to disown me. I'm all they have and…For the love of Salazar, Hermione, just marry me. We can do it right now. We'll be back home in England tomorrow morning."

"I _am_ home, Draco," she said softly.

"America is not your home and is not where Scorpius is meant to grow up. His heritage is in England. Don't you want him to go to Hogwarts?"

Hermione frowned into Draco's chest and shook her head. "No."

"It's where we went."

"It's where we nearly died. It's where I lost so many people I cared about. It's where all my nightmares take place. I don't want him to go there. I want him to grow up in a place where history wasn't so recent."

"I can't see Scorpius more unless I tell my parents, Hermione," he quietly said to her.

"Then tell them, Draco. Tell them about him and about us." She pulled away from him but kept eye contact. "There is nothing stopping you from telling them. I say you can't tell you parents, but you could do it anyway. Why haven't you told them, yet? I honestly doubt it's because I asked you no to."

"It is," he stated with a firm nod.

"I can't believe that's true. Draco, I know you're scared to tell them, and it's okay. I'm not angry. I don't want you to say anything to them."

Draco went silent, so she turned back to the kitchen sink and resumed washing Alex's hair. He grinned up at her, putting a few of his baby teeth on display.

"We have to tell them someday." Draco shooed her hands away and gently messaged his son's scalp.

"I…don't think there will be a need to," Hermione replied and got a cup out of the cupboard and placed it under the faucet, filling it up with lukewarm water.

"Why do you say that?"

Chewing on her bottom lip, Hermione contemplated on what she should say without offending him. "Because, Draco."

"Because why?"

Sighing, Hermione set aside the cup and leaned against the nearby counter. "I love you."

"That's why we can't tell them in the future? Because you're bonkers over me?"

"No. I wasn't finished. Look…I love you, and you say you love me but…this," Hermione gestured to herself and then to him, "is not going to last. We can only hold onto this for so long. You're not going to be able to have me forever. It's going to be expected of you to get married and have a family. One day, I'm not going to be enough. Alex won't be enough to come to see us."

"I'll always come, Granger."

"This is not the time for a double entendre. Are you listening? I love that you come and visit, but I'm not expecting that from you forever. I'm here in Salem, and you are in England. One day there is going to be a witch who-"

"There's no one else for me," Draco interjected gruffly. "You're it for me. I don't want anyone else. Bloody hell, Granger, why do you think I've asked you to marry me. Because it's convenient?"

Flattery and adoration swirled around inside Hermione. She bit her lip shyly, letting his confession swoon her for a brief moment before letting reality smother it. "You say that now."

"I say that now. I'll say it tomorrow. I'll say it next year, and the year after that. You've ruined me for all other witches. I want you, and I'll have you. You keep saying one day I'm going to do this or that. Well, let me tell you something. One day I'm going to marry you. You should know, Sweetheart, that I'm a man who gets what he wants."

"Let's not talk about this now," Hermione whispered uncomfortably.

"You brought it up," he pointed with a scoff.

"And I'm taking it down. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine," Draco waved his hand dismissively, "we won't talk about it. We'll do it later. Let's finish Scorpius' bath and put him to bed, and then you can award me…if you're still up to it."

"I might be. Now if you could shield Alex's eyes from the shampoo suds when I rinse his hair, I would sure appreciate it. Just put your hand like this. Yeah, like that." Hermione slowly poured the lukewarm water over her son's head while running a careful hand through the waterlogged strands, purposefully touching Draco's fingers as often as she could.

* * *

_Present Day_

Hermione glared at her fireplace while fastening the button on her black knitted gloves and then exhaled roughly before stooping down and picking up the sling of her traveling satchel.

"This is going to be so much fun!" exclaimed Alex and ran to his mother's side and clasped their hands together. He was dressed warmly with a woolen coat and cap. "We hardly get to go anywhere. Last year, my Dad took us all to Disneyland for Christmas! He had never been and neither had I, but Mom told me about how it was the Muggle's Magical Kingdom when I was really little. Ever since, I have really, _really_ wanted to go. Dad hadn't even heard of it until Mom told him about it. I had so much fun! Mom, is there a Disneyland in England?"

"No," Hermione answered. "But there is one in Paris."

"Can we go for Christmas with Dad?"

"I-I'll think about it," Hermione stuttered out.

Blaise stood beside her and offered her his arm. She ignored it, and he got the point.

"What's Disneyland?" he asked lightly.

"You haven't heard of it, either?" Alex goggled and then looked up at his Mom. "He'll have to come, too."

"He won't be coming," she rushed out.

"Oh, I always come, Granger." Blaise smirked at her which faltered when he saw her posture go rigid, sorrow filling her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and sniffed. "Nothing at all."

"Are you off then?" Luna asked from the kitchen.

"Unfortunately," Hermione groaned in response. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? You can visit your dad."

"Hmmm. Daddy," the other witch said pensively with a wistful smile but then shrugged. "Someone has to take care of the store while you're gone. I'll see Daddy at Christmas."

"Miss you," Alex waved at her. "Thanks for the waffles. They were yummy."

"That's silly to thank me when you were the one who made them. I only helped. Have…" Luna hesitated and then continued, "Be safe. Don't cause Mum too much trouble."

Blaise flicked some Floo Powder into the fireplace and gestured to Hermione and Alex to go first. Her son dragged her into the flames eagerly and shouted slowly to get the pronunciation correct, "United Portkey Associations!"

Hermione quickly followed her son and arrived inside the main level lobby area and hurriedly stepped out of the Floo to make room for Blaise. He arrived moments after she, and Hermione noticed a group of men and women waving their visas in the air and yelling at someone behind one of the counters, all of them having English accents. The older ones were dressed in traditional robes while the younger ones were dressed in nicely tailored suit pants, skirts, and shiny black shoes or heels.

"Better keep your face hidden, Granger. They'll notice you," Blaise whispered behind her. She nodded and buttoned up her coat the rest of the way so her mouth and some of her nose were covered. "Do you have your visa?"

"Yes," she told him and grabbed Alex's hand.

"Is England fun, Mom?" he asked her expectantly.

"Italy is better," Blaise interjected. "Perhaps we'll go there, too."

"Oooh! Can we, Mama? Can we? Can we? Can we, please?" The boy said in mantra while hopping up and down.

"Probably not," Hermione said gently, and Alex deflated with a disappointed groan and scuffed his snow boot on the floor.

"Don't worry, Little Mate," Blaise said with a smirk. "I'll make her change her mind."

Blaise expected Alex to give him a grin of relief but instead received a snort of incredulity.

"Good luck with that. Dad couldn't even do that most the time."

"Alex," Hermione said warningly.

"It's true, though," he defended in a whining voice. "Dad says your stub…stububub-"

"Stubborn," Blaise pitched in jovially and Hermione glared at him.

"Yeah!"

"And what did your mother be so stubborn about?"

"_Lots_ of things. Like a couple of years ago-"

"Alex," Hermione's voice raised an octave but the boy continued like he didn't hear her.

"Dad told Mom he wanted another-"

"Alex!"

"Baby and mmmmmph."

Hermione's hand glued itself over the boy's mouth, ignoring the slobbery licks he lashed at her palm. Instead, she stabbed Blaise with a murderous glare.

"Did you hear what he said?" she asked.

Blaise neck muscles twitched before his head shook from left to right.

"If you did hear, would dare tell anyone?"

He shook his head from left to right.

"And why is that?"

"Because I know you'd hurt me."

"Correct. Alex," she looked down at her boy peevishly, "you will not bring that up again. You will not bring up anything about the things Daddy wanted...wants Mummy to do, alright?"

Alex nodded and she released his mouth, a chagrined expression in place. "Sorry, Mommy."

"As you should be."

Alex stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets and pouted at the floor, his chin wobbling.

"Are we going? We better before I change my mind," Hermione said to Blaise.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favorited this fic.

Thank you to: **hkmac, Andykins, BeWhoYouAre99, Kou Shun'u, and mbclose**.

**To BeWhoYouAre99:** You know...I didn't really think it was such a great idea to kill Draco. I honestly thought no one was going to read this fic because it was right in the description that Draco died. Who wants to read a sad story where the love interest dies? Not me! But...the plot bunny bug bit me and I had to write it. As for how I got inspiration to write it, I don't really know. I just like to write things that I haven't seen before. I've seen a lot of cliches: some good and some bad. I thought I would write something different to break away from that cookie-cutter outline. And I know you are kind of concerned about Hermione moving on. We all want her to love Draco forever. I know what I said earlier, and the ending has stayed the same somewhat. I will only say now that this story is not about finding a new love interest for Hermione. When the story ends, she will not swept up into the arms of some guy and kissed with steaming passion. You're probably kind of relieved in a way. You don't want her to be alone for the rest of her life. I get that. We'll just have to see what happens, but if there is someone she takes a fancy to, it's not going to be the main point of the story at all. So...yeah. Thanks for the review. It was good to hear your thoughts again.

**To Andykin:** I'll think about about the memory thing. I do have a person's memory, not Hermione's or Draco's, that I will be showing in a later chapter. So we will see. :)

**To Kou Shun'u:** You won't have to wait too long for the headline. You know I love to make my readers sweat just a little. ;)

* * *

"No, I do not have a copy of the boy's birth certificate."

"Do you have a photograph of him?"

"…No, but-"

"Come now, Lucius," Edward Fairworth chuckled and leaned back into chair across from Lucius. "Have you even met the boy?"

"Well, no-"

"Mr. Stapes, I fail to see how this made up child is going to be interfering with my portion of the company," Mr. Fairworth said to the third man who was sitting next to him. The three wizards sat tensely in Lucius' office discussing legal and financial matters concerning the Malfoy company. Lucius had been awake for nearly 20 hours, most of that time having meetings with his business partners and solicitors. He furtively checked the clock above the mantle which did nothing to help him. The clock had been removed an hour ago by Mippy.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Fairworth does have a point. It would best if there was proof of the child's existence. Rumors like these are made up every day."

"You think I'm lying?" Lucius inquired in a sputter. "That's preposterous!"

"All I'm saying is the lack of proof is questionable. Lucius, everyone in England has seen _The_ _Daily Prophet _headline and has read the article. Do you know how many people actually believe…Now what does it say here?" The man took out a copy of the newspaper and recited, "_The Malfoy Lineage Prevails: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger's Secret Love Child Revealed._ Not even half of the population believes this."

"What Mr. Stapes is saying, Lucius, is that my money is my money, there is no child, and I will do what I please with my assets once you have passed along."

"Give me something to present, Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Stapes begged. "And I will do so faithfully in the Wizengamot with bells on my toes and ears, but I cannot touch a spellbound contract centuries old clearly stating that all family affairs, assets, and estates will go to the next Malfoy heir. From what I can see, my friend, you do not have one. Furthermore, upon your passing, all of those will go towards your business partners or left to the Ministry and sold for auction."

"I know, and that will not happen. My son did have a child and will be taking over the company when he turns seventeen. I will tell you, Mr. Stapes and Mr. Fairworth, to not worry about it as of yet. The boy still has a few years before he is of age, and I still have a few years before I will be _passing_ on. Until then, the company is still mine. Thank you for your visit, Gentlemen, but I have some matters to take care of."

Once the two men left, Lucius summoned Mippy and asked her to fetch his wife. Moments later, Narcissa arrived in his office, her demeanor a bit frazzled.

"All the Floos are currently neutralized. No one can get in or out, but Owl Posts have been increasing rapidly in the last few hours. I haven't opened any, and I had Mippy get rid of all the Howlers. I admit, though, I find myself in a curious state. I wonder what some people have been writing."

"I assure you, love, most of those letters will not have any composure. It has come to my attention that only a few believe _The Daily Prophet's_ headline," Lucius picked up the newspaper in gesture, "and those who do are not thrilled."

Narcissa nodded in acceptance and sat down on the seat Mr. Stapes vacated minutes before, reaching across the desk and taking the newspaper. "I still wonder how it got out. Someone must have been there when Miss Granger and I were at the restaurant last night. He or she must have been eavesdropping. It irks me terribly, Lucius"

"I know how bothered you are. I am, as well. I'm facing all of those who I considered trustable and respectable business partners and and their lawyers. They were all hoping to cash in the moment I left this plane of existence. I'm not overly concerned; however, Alex will take over. Just think, Darling, in nine years none of this will matter. No one will care anymore. This is only but a small blip in the spectrum."

"You're right," Narcissa said and then asked, "Have you heard from Blaise?"

"Unfortunately, I have not. I wonder how much progress he has made working over Miss Granger. I honestly believe it is best if she were to stay in England until the storm calms. Not to mention, young Alexander needs to begin his studies. Cissa, have you contacted the tutors?"

"I have sent Owls, but I doubt I will recieve a response for at least a week. However, I do believe the boy is presently well-educated. He was attending a very good school. I'm positive he is very bright like our Draco. His mother is smart, too, or so I heard. For a…woman of her upbringing, anyway."

Mippy appeared and bowed deeply, a letter in her small hand.

"Mippy, didn't I tell you to leave the Owl Posts in my quarters?" Narcissa asked sternly.

"Mippy is sorry, Mistress, but letter is from Mrs. Parkinson Weasley. Mippy not sure if Mistress meant she. Mippy will put the letter in Mistress's quarters."

"No, I will take it if it is from Pansy," Narcissa said and let the elf hand her the letter. "You may go."

Mippy left and Narcissa looked to Lucius with a quirked eyebrow. "What do you think it will say?"

"I don't know. I'm in shock it's not a Howler. She's exceptional at those. Remember when Paldig died on the way to Pansy's estate."

"Yes. The owl was carrying her invitation to our annual Christmas Charity Ball."

"She was quite upset, indeed. She thought she had not been invited," Lucius reflected and extended his hand. "Would you like me to open it?"

"No, I'll do it. Hand me your opener?" With Lucius envelope opener, she slit open the parchment and took out the tri-folded letter and unfolded it, her eyes skimming over the loopy handwriting and narrowing at each word.

"Something wrong?" asked her husband.

Sinking her teeth in the tip of her tongue, Narcissa sucked in a deep breath through her nose and clenched the letter in her hand. "He told her."

"Pardon?"

"Draco told Pansy. She knew, Lucius! How could he tell her and not us?! My Gods, he didn't even tell Blaise, but he told _her_! Why her!" Narcissa let the creased parchment fall to the ground and stood up and glared at the mantle where the clock used to be before turning to her husband who was levitating the letter towards him. "Read it! Read and tell me you're not upset."

Lucius brought the letter to his hand and began to read:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,_

_I apologize for not keeping in touch since Draco's funeral, but I have purposefully been avoiding you. Three years ago, Draco told me in secret about Hermione Granger and their son. I told no one of this out of trust. When I heard the news of Draco, I immediately wanted to contact you and tell you everything, but I was unsure of how you would react or if you would even believe me. Furthermore, I am relieved you know about the boy, and I expect someday in the future I will be meeting him. Draco told me how he has the Malfoy name, so there will be no qualms about inheritance issues._

_With love,_

_P.W._

"Well...aren't you angry?" Narcissa hissed.

Lucius sighed and set the letter aside. "No."

"No?!"

"No."

"How can you not be upset about this? Why would Draco trust her before he would even trust Blaise? Why couldn't he tell us?"

"Darling, I suspect Miss Granger heavily influenced Draco's decision in keeping the child away from us. She did not want us to know and to appease her, our son went along with it."

"But he told Pansy! I don't think Hermione would have approved of that!"

"I doubt Miss Granger knows Pansy was informed. As to why Draco told her over Blaise, I think it's quite obvious."

"Do tell."

"Well, in all honesty, I think the letter was a well-formed lie. I congratulate Pansy for trying to be polite, but I am going to assume Draco did not tell her a damned thing."

"Then how-"

"Sweetheart, this is Pansy we are discussing. She _found out_ and mostly likely confronted Draco who had no choice but to tell her the truth."

"How did she find out? We knew nothing for over eight years."

"You know, Cissa, I never believed Pansy got the praise she deserved in school. She had decent test scores, but she was continually outshined by those around her. Ancient Runes and Astronomy were always her specialty. Patterns are her expertise. If I were to guess that Draco disappearing on designated days of the year, someone could very well take notice and demand answers."

* * *

Alex doubled over and vomited onto the carpet beneath him and then started to sob uncontrollably.

"Is he okay?" Blaise asked with concern while shrugging of his winter jacket and draping it over the back of the couch.

"He's not used to Portkeying and Apparting so close together," Hermione explained and bent over to rub her son's back soothingly and made shushing sounds. "You're okay, Sweetheart. Mummy's got you. Look," she pointed to the large window across the room and was about to tell him they were now all in England but stopped short, her throat catching her words. Slowly standing, she soaked in her surroundings, horror knocking the wind from her.

"This is his flat," she whispered and then looked at Blaise, tears clouding her vision. "You took us to his flat. You want us to stay here?"

"We don't have to. We can go somewhere else," he rushed out, a regret expression on his face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Ignoring him, Hermione walked around the flat, thinking nothing had changed in nine years. The furniture, the color schemes were all the same. She came to a closed door and opened it, entering Draco's office and looking around. There were portraits on the wall, but all the occupants were gone, having left only opaque backgrounds and golden frames.

The desk was mahogany and appeared to have not been touched in over a month, for a thin layer of dust coated the wood. A pair of glasses caught her eye, and she gingerly picked them with her pointer finger and thumb, a broken smile almost stretching her lips.

"I knew you needed them, you stupid blind boy," she muttered under her breath and couldn't help but open them up and slide them. She gazed around the room, trying and failing to adjust her vision. Putting her attention back on the desk, she blearily saw a blurry picture frame and movement. Slipping off the spectacles, Hermione saw who was in the photograph and then hurriedly picked it up and brought it closer to her eyes, a sullen frown marring her lips.

"Astoria," Blaise said from the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame.

Hermione nodded solemnly and set the picture back down. "She's pretty."

"That she is."

"Um…" Hermione sniffed and tried to compose herself, wiping underneath her eyes. "Had they set a date? For the wedding, I mean?"

Blaise shook his head from side to side. "They could never agree. She wanted to get married this past May, but Draco thought sometime next year would have been best."

"Oh," Hermione replied softly, not finding any other words that could describe her feelings at the moment.

"Granger, I know you don't want to tell me. You don't want to tell anyone. You nearly exploded back in Salem when Alex mentioned it, but I can't help but get the feeling that…Draco was comfortable with you. He wanted you. You said when Alex was born, he asked you to marry him. You said he visited, and I'm just trying to understand my friend here. He always made it appear he was well supplied with women up until Astoria. He'd disappear for a day or weekend. I assumed he was with a lady friend."

"What makes you think he wasn't," Hermione couldn't help but challenge, a weak smile gracing her features. "Yes, Draco and I had something. It was special, and I loved him for so many different reasons and so many different ways but never the one where I felt like we should get married. I guess I couldn't ever let myself trust him because I had seen him and his family at their worse and I was on the receiving end of it.

"I would have moments where I could almost pretend I never knew Draco before Ron and Pansy's wedding, and that we were like any love story—we met at a party and one thing led to another. Those moments would never last long, and one day they just stopped happening. Fantasies stopped and I couldn't pretend anymore. I couldn't pretend any longer that it didn't hurt to have him show up whenever he felt like and pretend it didn't kill me every time he had to leave. But I still couldn't trust him enough to ask him to stay. Blaise, you must know the War and the choices I made afterwards…made me different. You can probably sense that I hardly trust anyone."

Blaise hesitantly nodded. "The days of people trying to hurt you are over, Hermione."

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and she smiled at him like she would a small child who sang the ABC's out of order. "I wish I could believe that."

"You can," he assured.

"Do you trust everyone you know?"

"I don't believe everyone wants to hurt me," Blaise explained crisply.

Rubbing at her cheeks and eyes, Hermione sniffled unattractively and chuckled. "I truly doubt that. Have they met you? You're awful."

"Many overlook that because I'm fetching."

An ache of loss punched her chest, and Hermione grimaced. "You sound like him. Like Draco. He'd say idiotic things like that."

"Idiotic but true. Remember that, Granger," Blaise said and stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked around the office pensively. "So I'm guessing you've been to Draco's flat before."

"Yes. _That_ weekend."

"You came straight to his office. Why?"

Hermione dabbed underneath her eyes with the sides of her fingers and blushed, turning to look at the desk. "Draco always thought Alex was conceived on the dining table. He wasn't." Hermione nudged her head at the desk and patted the wood. "It was here."

Ignoring his appalled expression, Hermione brushed passed Blaise and entered the sitting room to go back to Alex who was lying on the couch looking lethargic and pale.

"Are you alright?" she asked and he kind of nodded in yes, his eyes hooded and blood-shot. She pointed her wand at the vomit on the carpet and cleaned it up before sitting beside him on the couch. It was the same couch she sat on many years ago after saying yes to Draco's proposition of a weekend fling.

It wasn't long before Alex's eyes closed and his breathing became heavy and Blaise asked,"Do you think he'd be up for a trip to the Manor after he wakes up?"

Hermione looked down at her lap. "I need to tell him about his father when he wakes up. I have to tell him why we are really here." Leaning her head back against the cushion, she swallowed thickly. "I don't know if you should be here when I do."

* * *

An hour-in-a-half passed and Blaise had been gone for twenty minutes of it, mentioning before he Disapparated that he needed to speak with Draco's parents and tell them of her and Alex's arrival to England.

She leaned against the large window and stared down at Diagon Alley, thinking the area must have tripled in size in the last ten years. There were more shops, restaurants, and apartment buildings since her last visit.

Unable to help herself, the corners of her mouth twitched. If only the people down there new Hermione Granger could see them. Her amusement did not last long when thinking of her old friends and the Weasley Family and how they must have felt when reading _The Daily Prophet _that morning with their tea. Did they believe the article? Did they even care?

She sincerely hoped they didn't believe it and didn't care and were too involved with their own lives than to be bothered by hers.

A knock on the door roused her out of her thoughts, and she whipped her head around to look at the door and then at Alex who was still sleeping on the couch.

Heart beating against her chest bone rapidly, Hermione wondered who could be at the door and why. Why would anyone be knocking on a dead man's door? If it were Blaise, he would have simply Apparated in? Unless he didn't want to wake Alex. Maybe it was Blaise?

She crept towards the door and jumped when there was another knock, contemplating whether to yell a 'hello?' but thought better of it.

With the barrier finally in front of her, she went to look through the peephole and leapt out of her skin when the person knocked again, this time louder, and shouted through the barrier, "Hermione, I know you're in there. Open the door!"

Stomach bottoming out and beating heart hitting the back of her teeth, she backed away from the door, her feet nearly stumbling over each other.

It was Harry!


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, followed, and or favored this story.

Thank you: **hkmac, Kar-Kar93, Leah Andrea Black, Vanessa85, psych522, Aya Diefair, alina290, and Kou Shun'u, Angelus Draco for the reviews!**

I got a couple of questions and suggestions and such. Some of those suggestions, if I pursue them, will not be for a little while. However, some of them will be provided in the long, lovely (not really) chapter. I say 'not really' because…*sigh*. You'll find out. Nevertheless, I hope the chapter was at least informative if not anything else. Read and Review, please, and tell me what's on your mind.

* * *

_Hermione crept towards the door and jumped when there was another knock, contemplating whether to yell a 'hello?' but thought better of it._

_With the barrier finally in front of her, she went to look through the peephole and leapt out of her skin when the person knocked again, this time louder, and shouted through the barrier, "Hermione, I know you're in there. Open the door!"_

_It was Harry! _

Gagging, strangling, choked sounds clogged the back of her throat when hearing Harry's voice. Her heat beat more violently, her Fight or Flight instincts pounding at her muscles, urging them to move.

But there was nowhere to go?

Muggle London, perhaps? Just for a minute.

Back to the UPA? That sounded lovely. She could be back home in under thirty minutes.

"Hermione!" Harry barked and Hermione winced at looked at Alex. He was starting to stir and mumble in annoyance at the loud banging.

She bounced back and forth on her feet like the floor was boiling hot, unsure of what to do.

"Mama," Alex mumbled with his eyes still closed, a yawn escaping his lips and then smacked them together with a grimace.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled.

"Mama?"

"Hermione!"

"Mama?"

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

"Open the bloody door!"

Hermione stood in the medium of the door and the couch, her arms straight and hands clenched in fists.

"Mama?" Alex moaned and sluggishly sat up, his curly blond hair in disarray and a small pout in place. "Is someone at the door?"

"Hermione!"

Letting out a frustrated noise, Hermione stomped her foot into the ground and marched towards the door and unlocked it, keeping the door chain in place.

"Harry," she whispered to him, her face pressed into the four inch crack. "What?"

He glowered at her, his green eyes angry and his posture rigid, his chest rising up and down like he had ran all over the world to only come here and breathe at her.

"Where the hell have you been?" he hissed and Hermione winced, hearing Alex gasp from behind her and scamper, his little feet pitter-pattering towards her.

"Harry, now is really not-"

"Where the hell have you been?" he repeated with more venom.

Pressing her lips together tightly in exasperation, Hermione cocked her head and quietly replied, "Don't shriek at me like I was hiding, Harry. You knew where I was."

His jaw twitched and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Can we talk?"

"We're talking now," she said to him and felt a tug on the hem of her shirt. She looked away from her old friend and down at Alex.

"Who are you talking to, Mommy?" he asked through a yawn and then wrapped his arm around her leg and rested his messy, curly head on her hip. She put her focus back to Harry who was staring at the lower half of the door.

"Is that him?" Harry asked in an eerily neutral voice and took a step closer to the door. "Is that him?"

"Harry," Hermione exhaled helplessly and wiggled her leg, telling Alex she wanted him to let go of her. He didn't. "Why are you here?"

"I think it's obvious, isn't it," he forced out impatiently. "I want answers."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione looked away and then back at him, shaking her head. "Now-"

"Please." He placed his hand on the door like he thought she may close it on him abruptly.

Facing a conundrum, Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and rested her head on the door. Tiredly, she looked at her old friend and said, "No."

"Yes," he cogently said, his hand pressing harder on the door.

"It's not a good time," her voice raised, incredulity hinting in her words. Was he arguing with her? How dare he come to Draco's apartment and pound on the door? Wait!

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me!"

"How did you know I was even here? Who else knows?"

"If you let me in, I will-"

"It's not worth knowing. Goodbye, Harry. When I say I can't right now, I mean it." She went to close the door, but the man continued to block it with his hand.

"Do you have any idea how worried-"

"You knew where I was!" she shrilled. "You knew where I was. I told you where I was going and why! I wanted to go back to school. I wanted to get away from England, and I did. Don't get angry with me because _you _forgot!"

"I didn't forget, Hermione! I _tried _contacting you. The year you left, I sent you a letter around Christmas. The owl couldn't find you, so I contacted the school. They said you were no longer attending."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry I missed the letter, but you still could have found me. All you would have had to do is contact the Directory and ask for my name. I was still in Salem."

"Can we just…talk about this? Let me in, Hermione."

"It would be inappropriate if I invited you in," Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"It's not like _he's_ here," he hissed.

"I know but still."

"Bloody, hell, woman! Let me talk to you!"

"Mom, who is yelling at you this time?" Alex piped up. "Why does everyone yell at you?"

Hermione looked down at her son and told him lightly, "Because everyone is mean and inconsiderate of Mummy's feelings."

Harry snorted and Alex scrunched up his face and glared at the door. He grabbed onto his mother's other leg and wiggled to get in front of her. Hermione tried to block him but was unable to, so the boy was able to press his face into the four inch crack and look up at Harry.

"Don't yell at my mom!" he bellowed, jutting his little chin out in defiance.

"Alex," Hermione chastised, and her son then momentarily looked up at her innocently.

"I don't like it when people yell at you. It's mean," he said and pressed his face back into the gap and glowering up at Harry who paled like he had seen a ghost, his eyes widening comically.

She reached down with a hand and covered Alex's face with it, telling Harry, "Please leave."

"It is true," he whispered in horror and then stared at Hermione. "You and Malfoy really did-"

"It's none of your business," she clipped and took advantage of Harry's distracted state and closed the door, locking it soundly and grabbing Alex's arm.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Nobody you need to worry about, Sweetheart," she said to him gently while guiding him into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" She left him by the counter and opened the fridge and moaned in dismay. There was no food in it, dammit! But why would there be?

"It looked like Harry Potter," he said. "They have a picture of him in my history book at school."

"It's probably a dreadful picture," drawled Harry and Hermione squeaked, whirling away from the fridge and gaping at her old friend.

"What do you think you're doing? You can't just walk in!" she screeched.

"There are no wards oddly enough. Why would there need to be when-"

"Stop!" she demanded and then looked at Alex. "Daddy's room is down the hall behind the double doors. Go and jump on his bed with your shoes on."

"Really? Won't he get angry?"

"Not at you! He never gets angry with you, does he?"

"No, but he'll be angry with you and yell at you. I don't like it when he does that."

"Daddy's always angry with me, Sweetheart, so go jump on his bed a whole bunch of times. Don't fall off, though. If you fall off…"

"Then you'll be upset." Alex nodded enthusiastically and hopped out of the kitchen and down the hall, leaving his mother and Harry alone, both vaguely hearing, "I wonder if I'll stick to the ceiling again."

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to five before saying, "You need to leave."

"He doesn't know," Harry softly said. "The boy doesn't know about Malfoy. You haven't told him?"

"I only found out two days ago, and I was going to tell him…like now, but you showed up."

Something akin to guilt washed over Harry's face and he said, "I'm sorry. When I found out you were here-"

"How did you find out? I didn't tell anyone I was here."

"Luna," he said with a smiling grimace. "Another soul I hadn't seen or heard from in quite some time. Ginny was a bit shocked to be receiving a Floo call from her. No one had heard from her since Rolf left her."

"Luna called you," Hermione accepted, unable to suppress the feeling of betrayal. "I was trying to keep this visit on the low key."  
"She thought you may have needed a friend," he explained carefully.

"And you thought dashing over and pounding on the door and yelling at me was friendly?"

"I was anxious," he admitted with a flush.

"How did you know I was _here_, though? I don't think Luna knew I was coming here."

"Well, this wasn't my first guess. I tried all the obvious places: inns, hotels, and beds and breakfast. I tried the Malfoy's, but their Floo was blocked. Then I thought about this place. When I got here, I could feel magic through the door."

Hermione nodded and folded her arms protectively. "So you found me."

"I wish I only had a million questions, though."

"I'm I can't answer them, Harry," she quietly informed. "Like I said, this isn't a social visit. I'll be returning to Salem as soon as possible."

"And when is soon as possible?"

"Like…after Christmas." Hermione leaned against the fridge and brought a hand to her head, messaging her temple.

"After Christmas? That's six weeks. What will you be doing for that long?"

Shooting hexes at him with her eyes, she dropped her hand and rumbled, "It's none of your business."

"Then make it my business. You're my friend, Hermione. Come stay with me and Ginny."

"I don't think that would be wise. I'm trying to avoid the paparazzi, and once they find out I'm no longer in Salem, they'll be camping out on _your_ front lawn."

"I don't have a front lawn, remember? My place is Unplottable."

"You're still at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry nodded. "It looks a bit different. Ginny remodeled the whole place when she was pregnant with James. Unfortunately, Walburga is still there. I have thought about removing the entire wall, but then I'd have to put in a new wall and…yeah."

"James?" Hermione inquired, her lips itching to stretch forth into a smile. "How old is he?"

"He'll be eight in April, Albus turned four last month, and Lily is only three days old."

"Oh my," Hermione whispered, her eyebrows touching her hairline, unreasonable tears stinging her eyes. "Three kids. Wow. You've…been busy. I mean…I didn't mean it that way. I meant-"

"Yeah, every three to four years, Ginny can't get enough of me." Harry shrugged and Hermione covered her blushing face.

"Harry!" she muffled into her hands. "That's not what I meant!"

"You should see Ron's load."

"I don't think I will, thanks," Hermione said and uncovered her tomato-red face.

Harry frowned and asked, "You're not still…about Ron are you?"

"What?" Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion and then it struck her as to what he was talking about, and she violently shook her head. "No! That was…that was another lifetime ago! I actually haven't thought about him in ages. Or you. My priorities have been elsewhere."

"With Malfoy?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, with Alex. With work. I rarely saw Malfoy in the last nine years. You probably saw him more than I did."

"Alex? That's your son's name, right? The newspaper said, but I wasn't sure how much stock to put into the article."

"I honestly wish you hadn't believed a single word, but yes, that's his name. He turned eight yesterday."

"Wow," Harry breathily chuckled. "So it was when you didn't come back home with me and Ginny the night of Ron and Pansy's wedding."

"Awkward, Harry. Let's not do the math."

"But it's just Alex, right? There's not another little one running around here somewhere?" Harry made a gesture of scanning his surroundings, and Hermione clenched her back molars together, shaking her head.

"No, it's just him."

"And I noticed no ring."

"Nope. Never got married. One little boy was enough. I didn't need to take care of two," Hermione laughed off, trying to dissuade Harry away from discovering what brittle egg shells he was treading on. He grinned at her like he saw the word 'issues' painted in red on her forehead.

"Hermione," he said gently. "You don't need to hide things from me. You don't have to pretend. At least not around me. Not ever."

"But you're angry. You were furious when you came banging on the door," she reminded.

"I am. I feel like I don't know who this person is in front of me, and you purposefully kept me away so I could never get the opportunity to."

"I am not one hundred percent at fault here, Harry. You could've found me with a little extra work, but yes, I didn't contact you once in the past nine years. The reason I didn't was because I wanted that chapter of my life to be over. Everything reminding me of the war, I wanted out of my life. You know," Hermione paused for a brief moment to catch her breath, "I almost didn't keep Alex. Draco was a prime pain in the arse in school and in the war. He was young and foolish but a pain, nonetheless, and I dreaded having a souvenir of such a delight hanging about and crippling my progress in life. But…"

"You changed your mind when you saw him," Harry finished and then shrugged. "Kids. Ginny vowed she wasn't going to be as severe as her mum, but then James was born and was difficult from four months on. Children change you. I mean, really. If I didn't know this was you, Hermione, I wouldn't have even recognized you."

"What are you trying to say, Potter? That motherhood as made me into some unrecognizable swamp creature?"

"No. I'm saying you look older."

Tempted to toss an old man joke at him, she changed her mind and nodded in acceptance. "I feel older. I am a single mother with a son who is eight years old and wants to be held like he's a year old. He's getting bigger, and I'm getting weaker. I am a decade past my prime, and I look it. You can't lie and say I look fantastic for my age."

"It's probably the smokes," Harry said pointedly and then surprised her by patting his breast pocket on his jacket and then winked.

"Not you, Harry," she moaned her hypocritical disproval. "When did that start?"

"When did _you_ start?"

"Which time?"

Her question made Harry cock an eyebrow in intrigue. "You started more than once?"

"Like a good mum, I kicked the habit when I was pregnant. I…" Hermione licked her teeth and looked down at her shoes uncomfortably, "started again a few years back. It was stupid of me. Funny thing, though. Ten years ago, I used to think I was the smartest person I knew. But then I became a mum and realized how incorrect I was, so I tried to become intelligent again."

"How did that work out for you?"

"It didn't, obviously."

"Let's hope our children never find out how dim their parents really are."

"I may not be the brightest witch anymore, Harry, but I have learned that by pretending to be more brilliant than you actually are is the key to good parenting. Furthermore," Hermione raised a warning finger, "you can't slip up. You have to maintain that pretense."

"Who said that?"

"Me. That's something they don't teach you in the parenting books. Unfortunately, I don't think it works after children turn twelve."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said and an awkward silenced filled the kitchen.

Hermione looked down at her shoes again and finally spoke up, "You have to go, Harry."

"The offer still stands. You can stay at my place."

"No, I don't think so," Hermione declined.

"So you'll stay here?"

"No," Hermione sputtered out in a laugh. "No way. I was merely dropped off here, and I will not be staying in this…this memorial."

"You're not going to stay at the Malfoy's, are you? I can't think of anything worse."

"Me neither, and no, I won't be staying there."

"I'm sure Ron has-"

"Harry." Hermione put up a hand and closed her eyes in frustration.

"Okay. You'll figure out. Do you want to come over for dinner tonight, at least?"

Hermione simply stared at him.

"Right. I'll go. It was…depressing to talk to you," Harry winced. "I'll go now."

He Disapparated and Hermione pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and breathed in sharply, her chest aching to stutter in a violent sob. Harry's visit had been painful. Why did he have to rush over in a snit and reveal how much had changed in their lives?

Because he's a friend, she reasoned. Or he wants to be still. Whichever.

Leaving the kitchen, she slowly walked down the hallway towards Draco's bedroom where Alex was, her stomach bitterly sour and full of dread. She was going to have to tell him about his dad, and this flat was a horrible place to do it. Terrible setting, but she couldn't put it off any longer.

The double doors were ajar and Hermione slipped passed them and grunted at the disheveled bed with emerald green sheets.

"Alex," she said in admonishment and looked up at the ceiling where her son had stuck himself to, the flat of his hands and his knees attached to the drywall near the chandelier. He smiled mischievously down at her, his bum facing her and wiggling it at her in a teasing manner.

"Mom," he replied in the same tone.

"Get down from there."

"I don't know how, remember?"

"If you can stick yourself to anything, then you can un-stick yourself."

"I don't think it works like that."

"Fine." She withdrew her wand from her pocket and pointed it at Alex and levitated him down to the floor. When he landed on his feet, she extended her hand, indicating she wanted him to take it. "Come, I need to talk to you in the sitting room."

"Okay," he said and placed his smaller hand in hers and followed her down the hallway. "I like Daddy's room. It's big."

"Yep," Hermione said and took him to the couch and patted the cushion beside her. He plopped his bum next to her and swung his dangled legs.

"He has a big bed, too. Bigger than yours."

"Alex." She took his little hand again and held it in hers. "Do you know why we're in England? Do you remember what Mr. Zabini told you?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "To meet Dad's mom and dad."

"Yes, but we are also here to do something else. Did Daddy ever tell you what his job was?"

Hermione expected him to say no, but Alex's eyes widened and lips sealed shut, his free hand covering his mouth.

"What's wrong? Why are you doing that?" his mother asked.

Alex shook his head and muttered something into his hand.

"What are you saying?"

His little shoulders sagged, and he uncovered his mouth unsurely, his gaze drifting to his lap. "I'm not supposed to tell."

Hermione slit her gaze and turned her head slightly to the side in inquiry, "Tell what, Alex?"

The boy shrugged.

"Alex, what were you not supposed to tell?"

"It's a secret," he said. "Daddy said I wasn't supposed to tell you."

"Daddy told you to keep a secret from me?"

"I didn't want to because I knew you'd get mad at him. You're always mad at him, and he's always mad at you. I don't like it. All you two do is shout at each other, but he told me the secret anyway because he said I was old enough to know."

"Know what?" Hermione pressed again.

"I can't say. It's a secret," her son repeated resolutely.

She stared at him penetratingly, thinking of what Draco could have possibly told their son to keep a secret.

"When did he tell you this secret, Alex?" Hermione asked.

"Easter. Right before he left. It was when you locked yourself in the bathroom and said you would only come out when he left the house."

* * *

_Easter_

"I'll break this bloody door down, Granger! I swear I'll do it!"

"Go ahead! Show me how angry you are, Malfoy! Break things, smash things, destroy things! You're so good at it! You do it to everything!"

Alex wept quietly underneath his mother's bed with the plastic Easter egg clutched in his hand. His mom had organized an Easter egg hunt at the house and invited all of his friends. As his friends' baskets began to fill and his didn't, Alex went looking in special places his mother reserved eggs for only him, one of them being underneath her pillow. He had quickly snatched it with a pleased grin which disappeared quickly when hearing shouting coming towards him. Panicking, he dove underneath the bed and heard his mother stomp into the room and into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. His father followed close behind and started banging on the door, and their fighting escalated.

"Yeah, that's me! I ruin everything! Upset that I put a bump in the blissful life you and that plonker made together? What's his name? Mr. Li?"

"We're not together! I don't know how many times I've told you that, but you won't listen! You never listen!"

"Your words are shit! I know you're sleeping with him!"

"Even if I was, it's none of your business! You and I are not together anymore!"

"Granger, just open the bleedin' door!"

"No! I can't stand the sight of you! I hate you! Everything has gone to hell because of your petty jealousy! You embarrassed me in front my friends! In front of all Alex's friends! All Mr. Li did was come up and hug me and thank me for inviting him and his son to the party, and you barge over and yell at him like he was trying to rape me! I'm sick of it, Draco! I'm sick of your jealousy like you have a right to be! We're not together anymore! We're done! Finished!"

"And whose fault is that? I didn't want it to be over! Everything is peachy for years until out of the blue, you refuse to let me touch you. You won't even bother to tell me why you're acting like a bitch, leaving me to scramble like a bloody dog to get you to even look at me! And then when I do find out why…" he paused to take a breath. "You still wouldn't talk to me. You wouldn't let me fix it!"

"It wasn't fixable!"

"We could have tried again! You told me the Healer said it was still possible. We could have tried again. We could have gotten her again if you would have only let me, Granger! Dammit, I wanted another child! You didn't even tell me you had been pregnant! I had to find out from Lovegood of all people! There I was standing like a sod as she gave her regards and regrets, thinking I knew shit!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Don't bring it up! Leave! Go back to England! Go back to Astoria! Have a baby with her! I don't care! Just go! I never want to see you again!"

"I had a right to know! You did it with Scorpius, waiting until the last bleedin' minute to tell me! You were going to do it again! Were you planning to _give her away_ like you were him?!"

"You bastard, you know nothing! Get out! You have no idea how…" Hermione's voice wavered and stopped, violent sobs filling the area. "You have no idea how hard it was for me. You weren't there."

"You didn't tell me!" Draco barked and Alex snuck a look, lifting up the bed curtain. He saw his father pressing his forehead against the bathroom door, his back shuttering from emotional despair. "But if I had known, I would have been here for you. You wouldn't have had to go through it alone."

"I was going to tell you," she wept, her voice distant and harsh. "I was going to surprise you on Alex's birthday; I swear it, but it didn't…"

Draco sniffled and pushed more of his body onto the door. "Open the door, Hermione. Let me hold you. Let me love you again."

"No," she choked out. "You have Astoria. You love her. You're going to marry her."

"But I love you more. I want to marry you more. Tell me to call off the engagement, and I will."

"Please go."

"Hermione-"

"Go! I'm not coming out until you leave!"

"Don't be like that! This is not the time for your childishness!"

"That is a hypocritical accusation, Draco! I don't want to look at you! I don't want to talk to you! All I want is for you to leave!"

"I'm no le-"

"I'm not talking to you! _Muffliato!_"

"Granger!" Draco pounded on the door, but she didn't answer. He bellowed her name for what felt like hours to Alex. He watched his father unsheathe his wand, resorting to magic in opening the door. Nothing worked.

The boy slid back towards the middle of underneath the bed and buried his face into the floor and cried, doing his best to do it silently.

"Scorpius," he heard his father say, and Alex reluctantly turned his face and saw him holding the bed curtain aside and kneeling down to look at him.

"Scorpius," his father repeated. "What are you doing underneath the bed?"

Alex said nothing but reburied his face into the floor to avoid the knowing gaze of his dad.

"Scorpius, did you hear me and Mummy fight?"

With his nose pressed into the floor, Alex shook his head.

"You didn't? Are you sure?"

The boy bobbed his head.

"Fair enough. Would you like to come out?"

Alex shook his head no.

"I would like it if you did. I need to tell you something important."

The boy then looked tearfully at his father and whimpered out, "You're not coming back, are you?"

"Don't be silly," Draco said and slid his arm towards him and beckoned him closer. "I'll be here for your birthday. I never miss it, do I?"

"And Christmas?"

"And Christmas."

"But Mom said…"

"She's sad right now. She didn't mean half of the things she said."

"Why is Mommy sad?"

His father sighed, his expression stricken with grief. "For many reasons?"

"Is it because of me?"

"No," he dryly chuckled and shook his head. "No, your mum is barmy over you. She loves you more than anything, but she's sad because I make her sad."

"Why do you make Mommy sad?"

"Because she won't let me make her happy. Now come here. I need to tell you something. You're old enough to know. Practically a man already, aren't you?"

"Mom says I'm still a baby," Alex whispered, not moving from his spot.

"She'll be saying that when you're forty," his father muttered and the said, "I need to tell you something important, but I guess I'm going to have to do it here. Have I ever told you about my work?"

"No," Alex answered in a small voice.

"Well, I am in charge of a big section of very large company. Someday, the entire company will be mine, and I'm going to have to take care of it for a very long time. I won't be able to do that forever, though, so I'm going to need someone who can continue the work. Do you think you could do it?"

Shrugging his small shoulders, Alex said quietly, "I don't know."

"You don't know? How come you don't know?"

"What if I don't do it right?"

"If there is one thing a Malfoy can do right, it's run a company, Scorpius. One day everything will be yours."

"What about Mom? Does she get some of it, too?"

His father's mouth formed a grim line. "I'm afraid not, and she probably wouldn't want it anyway. But I need you to keep this a secret. You mustn't tell Mummy."

"How come?"

"Mummy is stubborn and may not understand how important this is, so don't tell her. I will someday, but you need to know now, okay?"

"Kay."

"Will you come out from under there now?"

Alex nodded gingerly and crawled out from beneath the bed, his father immediately picking him up and holding him close. The boy laid his head on the man's shoulder and clung to him.

"I love you, Daddy," he muffled into Draco's neck, and his dad rubbed his back affectionately.

"I love you, too. You're my boy, Scorpius."

"If I get the company, can I see you more?" asked Alex.

"I hope so. I think so. The company is in England, and that's where I live. You'll probably see me plenty of times. You'll get tired of seeing me."

"No, I won't." The boy shook his head vigorously. "But if it means I get to see you more, then I'll take your job. Can I do it now?"

Draco chuckled and kissed Alex on the cheek. "You'd be brilliant, I'm sure. Hold that thought for a while longer. Can you do that?"

"Maybe." Alex shrugged.

"Maybe? Well, I guess that will have to do for now, but I have to go, Scorpius. Mum wants me to leave."

"But I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay forever and ever and ever."

"I know, but I've got to leave or I'll make your mother even more upset." Draco went to put Alex on the floor and groaned. "Scorpius, we talked about this."

"Sometimes I can't help it," the boy explained in a small voice.

"You need to learn to control it. If you can't, then you need to learn to unstick yourself."

"I don't think it works like that."


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Thank you all to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favored this fic.

**Thank you: Eldersprig, Anjali Katari, twixxy-dee, hkmac, Kar-Kar93, Andykins, Angelus Draco, Vaneesa85, alina290, sm, Pesche, BeWhoYouAre, Guest, and Aya Diefair for the reviews.**

I got some question and some comments. Some of them I can't answer because that would be giving away some future content. I did get a question about if Hermione and Draco were still 'together' when he was 'together' with Astoria. No, he was not in relationship with Hermione while dating Astoria. I'm sorry if I didn't clarify that earlier. I thought I had. I apologize, but they were not together and had not been for quite a while. As the story continues to unfold, we shall see Hermione and Draco's relationship unfold, as well, and all will be revealed in time.

I also got comments concerning Hermione and Harry, not just from this chapter but from earlier ones, too. Some were on Hermione's team, and some were on Harry's team. Many want to know why Hermione didn't contact her friends. They want to know why she closed herself off from everyone excluding a select few. In Chapter 24, I received a review that I liked very much because the reader was dead on target. Hermione is _not_ Hermione from Hogwarts. This is Hermione Post War, and she's emotionally damaged. Just because she had a baby, doesn't mean she's one hundred percent healed. If anything, parenthood made her more reserved. She's more careful and less trusting. I suppose I will get a little personal here, but my father served during a war a very long time ago, and he still suffers from PTSD. There is no reasoning with people who suffer from it. That's a job for awesome psychiatrists. Why Hermione never went to one? *shrugs* The same reason my dad never went and never will. She thinks she doesn't have PTSD.

As for Harry, we'll see him again soon. We'll find out why he didn't try harder in contacting Hermione. We'll find out why Ron didn't either. All in good time, my people. All in good time. Now on with Chapter 26!

* * *

_Present Day_

Staring at her clasped hands on resting on her lap, Hermione sat in silence with Alex beside her who looked up at her with a guilty expression.

"I'm sorry, Mommy. He told me not to tell."

"I'm not angry with you," she quietly said. "I'm sorry you had to hear your father and I fight like that. It wasn't fair to you."

"Are two going to make up when you see each other? We'll he be coming over soon?"

Heart heaving and sinking low into a hollow stomach, she breathed in deeply, a sniffle evident in her nose. A tear escaped down her cheek as she grabbed Alex's hand and held it in her own.

"Unfortunately, no. Alex…" Hermione made an *ahem* sound and clenched her stomach to fight off the wave of nausea washing over her. She put her focus on her son and rubbed his cheek with the back of her knuckles. "Alex, your father has passed away. I'm so sorry." Another tear spilled out of Hermione's eye as did one from her other while watching her child's face cloud over with confusion and then pink with rage.

"No!" he screamed and wrenched his arm away from her and started to beat her wherever he could reach with his tiny fists. "No! No! No! You're lying, Mommy! You're lying! You are a liar!"

Hermione recoiled from the flailing fists and shot out her hands to grab them, stilling them from further abuse.

"Let go of me!" Alex screeched and yanked to free his hands, but his mother held strong.

"No, Alex, I will do no such thing," Hermione wetly told him, her son's violence preventing her to break down into sobs.

When the boy figured he could not escape from his mother's hold, he maneuvered his little body off the couch and began kicking her legs. Without anger, Hermione stood up and forced Alex to turn around, his back facing her. Bending low, she hooked his legs in the crook of her left arm and with her right, harnessed his arms to his chest. She held him this way for a long time. Through screaming and violent squirming, she stood in that same spot and didn't let go. Not even when tears flooded her vision and she could no longer see. Not even when she heard the shrieks turn into hoarse sobs and felt wetness on her arm.

The muscles in her arms burned and her bones ached from Alex's now limp weight. His crying mellowed to a thick, damp whispering mantra of, 'I want my daddy.'

A crack of someone Apparating inside the flat barely registered to Hermione, and Blaise appeared in front of her, Alex whimpering at the sudden appearance of him. Thankfully, the man said nothing but hesitantly opened his arms in offering. Hermione was about to deny him, but Alex stretched forth his hands towards Blaise and made a grunt of yearning at him.

"No, Alex," she whispered to him soothingly and shook her head at Blaise who ignored her and grabbed him, pulling at his body so Hermione would unhook her arms.

"You're tired. Let me," he demanded softly and she reluctantly let her hands fall to her sides and sank down on the couch, her back molding into the cushion and head slouching against the headrest. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her brows cinched together while her breathing transitioned from erratic to even.

* * *

_November 2003_

"You're tired. Let me," Draco whispered to Hermione with his arms stretched. She yawned at him in response whiling rubbing Alex's bare back and turned her head towards his face and lightly kissed his cheek, his weeping being muffled by her shoulder.

"Do you want to go to Daddy?" she asked her little one sleepily and let Draco take Alex and watched as he carefully situated the crying one year old on his bare shoulder.

Draco sighed with dismay and petted his boy's blond curls with a frown. "He's like a furnace. When can we give him another dose of fever reducer?"

"Not for another few hours," Hermione answered and leaned against the crib for support.

"Is there anything we can do? What the bleedin' hell did the Healers tell you?"

"They told me babies are too sensitive to magical healing remedies and have to fight off certain illnesses naturally. Unfortunately, there is no natural cure for the common cold with the exception of time."

Draco was about to respond when a sharp, painful cough erupted from Alex. The child's weeping increased in volume from the uncomfortable feeling, his cries hoarse and wheezy.

"Maybe you should try nursing him," Draco suggested while lightly bouncing his boy.

"I stopped producing milk a month ago," Hermione quietly informed in disappointment.

"Should we a try a bottle?"

She rubbed her eyes and yawned once more. "Go make one."

"What is he drinking now?"

"There's a carton that says Pedialyte on it in the fridge. Fill a bottle full it and bring it here."

"You go do it."

"But I asked you to."

"You didn't ask. You said, 'Go make one.' That's not asking. That's demanding."

"Fine. Will you please go make one?"

"No. I'll hold him, and you can go do it."

Hermione stared at him unhappily and rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him. "Alright, alright. I'll go get it for him."

She returned moments later with the bottle and handed it to Draco who took it and situated Alex in the crook of his arm and lodged the nipple in his mouth, silencing his cries. He drank greedily with his tiny hands on the bottle.

"My prince," Draco murmured with an endeared smile and leaned down and smooched the boy's crown causing a feeling of lustful desire to flood Hermione's womb. She licked her lips hungrily at him and caught his eye.

"I want you," she groaned in aggravation and gripped the railing of the crib in frustration. Thirty minutes ago, Hermione had been readying herself for bed, slipping on a pair of large sweat pants and a huge t-shirt, when she heard Draco unlock the apartment door. She had popped her head out into the hallway and called for him, smiling giddily as he came bounding towards her and lifted her over his shoulder. Squeals erupted from her as he carried her over to the bed and deposited her on the mattress. He quickly stripped himself of his shirt, shoes, and undergarments and then paused with a furrowed brow, asking what she was wearing. She shrugged coyly and stuck her legs out at him, and he easily bared her them with a simple pull of the material. He had kissed her ankles and like a predator, pounced on her. His lips crashed down on hers, his tongue quickly seeking out hers. Hermione and Draco had wasted little time with 'hellos' and 'how are yous', hurriedly progressing their passion. In the middle of said passion, she tossed back her hair and gathered her chin length curls in a fist and smiled down and Draco, about to tell him of her affection when a croupy wail startled them both.

"The moment he falls asleep," Draco promised darkly and despite her tiredness, Hermione's heart began to race in anticipation.

"If he falls asleep. He's been up for hours these past few nights with his runny nose, cough, and fever."

"Bloody ridiculous," Draco muttered and kissed Alex again on his damp forehead. "It's not fair he has to spend his first birthday with a cold." He looked at the Mickey Mouse clock on the wall and grinned. "It's almost 2:17. Just a few more minutes to go and he will be officially a year old."

Hermione frowned and cocked her head to the side and whispered, "I never knew. I never asked. I didn't even think." She brought a hand to her forehead and winced. "How could I have overlooked to ask? That is important."

"You fainted before the grand event. You couldn't have known."

"I know, but that's why I'm asking how could I have forgotten to ask? I'm horrible."

"Don't be dramatic. It's not a big deal."

"It is. It's not right that you know and I don't. I'm his mother."

"I'm his father," Draco countered.

"It's different. Mummies are supposed to know everything about their children. Fathers are the ones who are supposed to go along with whatever the Mummies say. Not the other way around!"

"Let it go. So you went a year without knowing. It's not the end of the world. You have the rest of his life to know what time he was born."

"I guess you're right," she mumbled and padded over towards him and peppered soft kisses on her baby's face. His eyelids were heavy and his breathing was becoming shallow.

"He's almost there, love," he said to her huskily and she stood on her toes and reached her arm around his neck and playfully nipped his chin. He lowered his head where she did the same with his lips.

"I missed you," she whispered into his mouth and then rubbed her nose against his.

"He's asleep," Draco said quietly and Hermione looked down at Alex whose eyes were closed, but his grip firm on the bottle.

"Wait a little bit before putting him back in his crib."

After waiting a few minutes, they felt it safe to place Alex back inside his crib, both giving him soft kisses before doing so. Following this, they returned to bed, sliding under the covers with a content, simultaneous sigh. Hermione shifted onto her side and propped her hand up to support her head, looking at Draco and his wistful smile.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked.

"He looks like me," he said, pride in his tone and then turned his head to face her. "Does that bother you that he looks so much like me?"

Hermione smiled a little and shook her head. "No, it doesn't. He's perfect the way he is. I love his hair. I love his eyes. I love his grin. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm just glad he won't grow up like you?"

The air shifted into something vacant and lifeless. Draco's smile disappeared and put his focus on the ceiling and said tonelessly, "Thank Merlin for that."

"Oh, Draco." Hermione shifted closer to him and put her hand on his chest and rested her chin on his shoulder. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about your personality, not about…"

"He'll never have this," he said and lifted his left arm and traced the fading Dark Mark with his right forefinger and then froze, dread seeping over his entire demeanor. "He'll ask questions. He'll see it. I need to keep it from him. I can't let him see it. He mustn't know that I was…Granger, how can you bare to look at me? Have me in your bed?"

"Have your baby?" Hermione lazily added and slithered up to his side so her front was flushed against him, her hand combing his hair and then cupped the side of his face while her teeth grazed his earlobe. "I don't want to think about all that right now. All I want is for you is to…" she dropped her voice into an inaudible whisper. A soft chuckle came from Draco's mouth, and he turned onto his side and latched his teeth onto the pulse-point of her neck.

_A Few Hours Later…_

Hermione blinked awake, feeling exhausted and disappointed for not sleeping longer, her bones and muscles feeling heavy and sore from lack of rest. Thankfully, though, she did not have to work today, purposefully planning cosmetic parties around Alex's birthday and not on the actual date.

The alarm clock read 5:30, and Hermione groaningly yawned. Sniffing, she rolled over and frowned when seeing Alex snuggled close to Draco bare chest, his father's arm wrapped protectively around his small body. Had her baby cried during the night?

Bending her body, she brushed a light kiss against Alex's forehead, his pacifier snuggly fit inside his mouth and an empty bottle clutched tightly in his hands as it rested on his naked torso. His skin was warm against her lips, and she noticed dried tear tracks down his chubby cheeks.

"Oh, Button," she cooed quietly as to not wake him or Draco. "Did you cry? I'm sorry I didn't hear you, love."

Figuring she was not going to be able to fall asleep again, she slithered out of bed and nicked Draco's shirt from the floor and slipped it on, buttoning the buttons on the front and walked out of the room and down the hallway. Upon entering the kitchen, she turned on the light and padded to the fridge, opening it and pulling out some butter and eggs. She then went to the cupboard and pulled out a few more essentials and began spreading them out over the island countertop, simultaneously summoning a recipe book from another cupboard with a wave of her hand. It fell in front of her and flipped to the page she had looked at the day before.

An hour later, Hermione was sitting on the counter with legs swinging freely while swiping her finger at dark brown colored goo inside a mixing bowl and then sticking the digit in her mouth and then repeating.

"What do we have here?" mumbled a knackered looking Draco as he stood at the entrance of the kitchen wearing the large sweat pants he stripped her of the previous night and holding a red-eyed Alex who was sucking on his pacifier with gusting fervor, his blond curls wild and unkempt and the empty bottle still clutched in his hands.

When seeing her, the binky popped out of his mouth onto the kitchen floor and said in a small but pointed voice, "Mamamama," and then stretched away from Draco and waggled his bottle at her. "Babababa."

"He's talking," Draco whispered in awe, a pleased grin forming on his face and twinkles of delight appearing in his eyes.

Hermione hopped off the counter and straightened Draco's shirt so it covered all her necessary bits. "Only a little. I've been teaching him to say Mommy, bottle, even Daddy." Draco cocked his eyebrow. "I've been showing him pictures of you and telling him you are his daddy. He has said it, but he forgets. I've been mostly trying to get him to walk, though. According to the parenting books, he still has time to learn, but most children stop holding on to things for support as early as ten-in-a-half to eleven months. With Alex, he holds on still, but he simply refuses to do more than that. If even that. He prefers to be held and carried."

"Is that right?" Draco asked Alex who looked at him and then wiggled his empty bottle.

"Babababa!"

"Not until you walk," Draco said sternly and earned a hit on the nose with the bottle. "Ow."

"Babababa!"

"Draco, you cannot withhold his milk in hopes he'll walk," Hermione giggled out and walked over to her boys and took Alex's bottle and went to the fridge.

Rubbing his nose, he suggested, "Perhaps we should set a bottle of milk across the room and place him on the opposite side so he can-"

"Crawl halfway, give up, and cry." Hermione nodded with a smug grin and handed Alex his bottle of milk. The boy took it with a cackle and shoved the nipple to his mouth with haste, sucking on it fervently. "I already tried that."

"At least he's crawling," muttered Draco.

"And _that_ was a nightmare to accomplish."

"Why won't you walk?" asked Draco to Alex who turned to look at him, and pulled the bottle out of his mouth.

"Mamamama," he said and then continued to guzzle his milk.

Draco gave Hermione an 'Explain, please' expression.

"I'm not interfering with his walking progress," Hermione defended hotly.

"Do you carry him a lot?"

"If I don't, he plops his bum on the floor and shrieks while waving his little hands at me, sticking that fat bottom lip out with crocodile tears. I'd like to see you and your cold, dead heart turn away from that."

"It spoils him."

"He is one year old, Malfoy. A one year old cannot be spoiled. The parenting books say so."

"The parenting books also say he should've been walking two months ago."

"They say it is also normal if he doesn't walk until he's fourteen months. You're acting irrational about this. It's not like he won't ever learn to walk."

"Look at him, Granger." Draco held Alex out at arms-length towards Hermione. "How much does he weigh? I reckon a lot. In two months, he'll weigh more. Do you really want to be lugging him around for that long?"

"I will _lug_ him around until he's ten years old if necessary! I don't mind carrying him. I _like _to carry him. I like how well-fed he is. I like everything about him. He's _perfect_, and _you_ should think so, too. You're his father!" Hermione took Alex and held him close to her, his messy head resting on her shoulder as finished off the last of his milk. He then burped and discarded the empty bottle by unclutching his fingers. It fell to the kitchen floor with a sharp knocking sound and rolled towards Draco's bare feet.

"I just…" Draco slumped his shoulder and gave her an apologetic look. "I don't want him behind in anything."

Hermione furrowed her brow and rubbed Alex's back lovingly. "Behind? He won't be behind in anything. So he can't walk yet. That's okay. He can say Mommy. He can sometimes say Daddy. He can say baba. He can clap hands, giggle, play with toys. With everything else, he's right on time."

"I want him to be exceptional," Draco said crisply. "I want him to be the best."

Hermione pursed her lips and quirked both of her brows. "And if he's not?"

"He'll be starting school in a few or so years. I'm sure he will be," Draco said, more to himself than to her.

"And if he's not?" Hermione repeated. "Yes, he's going to school. Yes, he may learn to read at a normal age and pace, but what if he's not the best? _You_ weren't the best."

Hermione saw Draco's jaw tick but was not at all concerned. She knew where he was coming from, but he had to know that Alex was not going to have a Lucius Malfoy incarnate as a father.

"I'm sure if he tries-"

"You tried," Hermione cut him off, her eyes shining with sympathy. "You tried to so hard. So many of you did: you, Coroner, Nott, McMillan. You all tried so hard, but it was me who was the best. How are you going to handle it if Alex is not the best? And I would suggest, Draco, you be very careful as to how you answer."

For a long moment, nothing but Alex's gurgling filled the silence. Finally, Draco's demeanor shifted into something softer and more accepting. He nodded gingerly and sighed. "I suppose if he can't be the best, then he sure as hell better marry the best."

It was not the response Hermione was expecting at all. "Marry the best? Alex is only a year old. We don't need to worry about that until he's like…ever."

"He will marry the best. If he can't be the best, then he'll marry the best. I think that's perfectly fair."

"Well, yes, but…" Hermione gazed at her baby with a pout. "He's _my_ boy. I don't want to share him with some other girl. How dare you bring that up?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Believe me, Darling, you have a long while before he starts showing interest in girls."

"I don't think I'll allow him to date until he's thirty," Hermione said and then smiled at Alex who grinned back, a thick line of drool leaking out of his mouth. "It's because you are all mine."

"He's not a toy, Granger."

"Yes huh. I press buttons, and he makes noises, so he must be a toy." Hermione lightly poked and wiggled her finger at Alex's bellybutton. The boy burst into giggles and then squealed, burying his face into his mother's neck and wrapping his arms around her.

"Then you must be my toy." Draco smirked and sauntered up to her and placed his hand on her bum, giving a cheek a firm squeeze. She squeaked and blushed but didn't bat his hand away. "I push buttons on you, and the noises you make are _interesting_."

"Pervert," she called him which earned her rump a smack.

The oven dinged and Hermione's mouth made an 'o', handing Draco the baby and bustling over the oven.

"Did you make something?" he asked and then took a whiff through his nose. "It smells good. What did you make?"

"Alex's birthday cake," Hermione replied while opening the oven and levitating the two hot, round pans of chocolate cake out of it and placing them on top of the stove. She closed the oven door and began casting cooling charms on them.

"Ooooo," Alex noised while extending his hand towards the direction of the cakes, his palm opening and closing.

"Will he eat any of it?" Draco asked uncertainly. "Can babies eat cake?"

Hermione glanced at Alex's chunky thighs and rotund belly. "I think he'll eat it, and yes, one year olds can eat cake. Many parents wait exactly until the child's first birthday to give he or she cake for the first time. I'm doing the same."

"And it's chocolate," Draco said. "I like chocolate."

"Me, too," Hermione added and went to the cupboard and pulled out a can of frosting.

"You're not going to make the frosting?" whined Draco.

"No. Do you want to?"

"I don't know how."

"Me neither," Hermione lied and peeled back the seal of the buttercream frosting and then popped the two cooled cakes out of the pans and levitated them as she cast a Splitting Charm on them so they up into four slim discs. With those levitating, she cast a Spreading Charm on the frosting and an offset spatula and frosted the cakes before layering them on top of a plate.

Hermione was not a cook or a baker by any means. Most culinary charms were passed down from mothers, learned in culinary books, or taught in culinary school. However, she did catch onto a few spells thanks to her teenage summer visits at The Burrow with Molly Weasley.

"And all it needs now is…" Hermione placed a single candle in the center of the top layer and touched her wand to ignite the wick.

"He can blow?" Draco asked.

"Not yet, so we'll blow it out," Hermione explained and gestured for Draco to come closer with Alex. "Now let's sing."

"No."

"It's your son's birthday, Draco. His first birthday. You're not going to sing to him?"

"No."

"Fine. I'll sing to him then," Hermione huffed and then sang Happy Birthday to Alex, ending the song by tickling him underneath his chin. "Happy birthday, Baby. I can't believe I've had you for a year already."

"Happy birthday, Scorpius," Draco murmured and kissed the boy soundly on his cheek and snuggled him close to his chest.

Hermione took the candle out of the cake and brought it between her and Draco, both blowing a puff of air to extinguish the flame.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Do people even read these? I know some do. Most of the time, this is where I try to answer my reviewers' questions or comments. I think it's kind of important. *shrug* Anyway, thank you to all who read this fic and the A/Ns, review, follow, and put this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: Kar-Kar93, Angelus Draco, Aya Diefair, Vaneesa85, hkmac, chyaraskiss, Guest, Jessica682, and Anjali Katari for the reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Very nice things were said, and I sure appreciate them. I did get an interesting question, and all I can say right now is…*shrug***

**To Aya Diefair:** Thank you and I agree about the horrific things HP characters had to experience. JK is amazing. She's totally kick-ass, but there is no way everything was rainbows and skittles after the war. It never is after any war. It's probably why she went straight to 19 Years Later. She didn't want to deal with that mess. Who would? A crazy person like me. :p

Also, I have gotten comments here or there about if Hermione will be ending up with some dude at the end of the story. All I can say right now is don't worry about it. I know it's a hard thing to do because I reckon I've got some Pro-Some Kind of Happy Ending readers out there but just relax. This story is not about Hermione falling in love again no matter what you read in future chapters that may cause you to think otherwise. This story is a Dramione. A tragic one, but a Dramione, nonetheless. They are the main paring of this powwow.

Enjoy Chapter 27! R&R, please!

* * *

_Hermione took the candle out of the cake and brought it between her and Draco, both blowing a puff of air to extinguish the flame._ Smoke filtered through the air, and Hermione followed the wisps with her eyes, her vision becoming hazy. She contorted her brow and blinked, waving the smoke away from her, but the motion didn't help. The smoke thickened, and Alex and Draco faded away.

"No!" Hermione shouted and reached for them, her hands sinking into smoggy air. A rancid smell of burning flesh and blood clogged her nose, causing her lungs to seize, and she coughed for breath. Her eyes scattered in hopes of seeing anything besides grey smoke. Her hand reached out again in the direction Alex and Draco faded and yelped pain, and yanked her arm back to cuddle it to her chest. She gazed down to look at her injured limb and saw blood soaking into Draco's shirt she still wore. Lifting her wrist closer to her vision, she saw her scars tearing open like fabric splitting at the seams.

"No," she whispered in pain and covered the wound with her other hand, looking around for help. "Draco!"

Through the thick mist, a pair of hands shot towards her and hit her chest. She fell backwards on a hard, cold surface, her vision becoming dark for a split second before focusing on a black-clothed figure hovering over.

"How did you get the sword?!" screeched the figure.

"No!" Hermione tried to squirm away from Bellatrix but stopped when feeling indescribable pain, like her blood had turned to acid and was eating away from inside out. "Ahhhh!"

Hands flew to her shoulders and to her face, and she flailed her arms while screaming, "Get away! Stop!"

"Hermione!"

"No!"

"Wake up!"

A cold blast of air knocked Bellatrix to the side and out of Hermione's vision. She blinked and saw a large chandelier moving above her, the tiny glass bulbs wiggling. She closed her eyes and felt another blast of frigid cold upon her skin. Shivering, her eyes fluttered open and she was staring at herself in the mirror, eyes red and hair damp with sweat. An unbearable pain shook her womb and she screamed, looking down and seeing a bulge underneath her white night dress. Wet warmth trickled down her thighs, and she lifted the hem and saw a pool of blood gathering between her widely spread feet.

"No," she sobbed and placed a hand on her stomach, feeling her womb contract in pain. "No, it's too soon!"

"Hermione!"

She looked away from her stomach and stared at her reflection again.

"This is your fault!" screamed her reflection and the mirror cracked, the broken jagged pieces darting towards her. She covered her face with her arms and felt a pair of hands grip her around her wrists.

"Wake up!"

"Let go of me!"

"Wake up, Granger!"

Hermione tried to break free from the hold on her wrists. Finally, the hands let go of her wrists but not a few seconds later, icy water doused over her. Coughing, she closed her eyes and opened them again, seeing a pair of trousers.

"Granger?" she heard a man say. Blinking again, she shivered and curled into herself. The man bent at the knee, and she sniffled.

"Blaise, what's wrong? Why am I wet?" she asked and grimaced, pulling herself up into a sitting position. Folding her drenched arms, she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landing back on Blaise. "I must have fallen asleep. Is Alex alright? Where is he?" She went to stand up, but he placed his hands on her shoulders, a peeved expression on his face.

"He's fine. He's in Draco's room lying on the bed. I don't think he's asleep, but that's where he wants to be."

"I need to go to him." Hermione went to stand up again from the couch, but Blaise kept his hold on her shoulders. She cocked her head to the side and cinched her eyebrows together. "Let me go."

"Are you alright?" he asked slowly.

"I'm fine. I'm wet. Why am I wet?" she repeated as if she had forgotten and lifted up her arm, unhappily eyeing the drenched material of her polo sweater.

"I cast an _Aguamenti _on you."

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't wake up."

"So you doused me with cold water?"

"To me, it looked like you would have very much appreciated being woken up. You were obviously having a difficult time. You were thrashing here on the couch. At first I thought you were having a seizure. I ask again, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Hermione said and tucked a soaked lock of hair behind her ear, trying to remember what she had dreamed but was semi-grateful she couldn't. She knew from the racing of her heart and from Blaise's description, she was having a nightmare.

"Do you need anything? A drink?"

Tugging on the material of her sweater, she wryly said, "I got one, thanks."

"I'm sure there's a bottle of Firewhiskey around here somewhere," Blaise said while sweeping his gaze around the apartment, and Hermione half-heartedly smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure there are better things here than Firewhiskey, Zabini. Never mind, though, I don't drink. Haven't had one in almost a year."

Blaise tossed her a wary gaze. "Were you a little too friendly with the bottom of the bottle?"

"No, I realized I do stupid things while under the influence."

"A little sip of Ogden's Finest should take the edge off while Apparating. I think we should leave soon. I'm sure you don't want to be here for much longer."

"I don't," Hermione agreed. "And though the offer of alcohol sounds tempting, I have another way of taking the edge off."

"There is no magical cure for lung cancer, Granger, just to let you know. I tell my mate Theo all the time. You remember him, right? He was-"

"I remember," Hermione grumbled and pinched the skin of her nose between her eyes and hunched over. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven. You were out for a while, but I thought you needed the rest. I took care of Alex. All he really wanted was to go in Draco's room and lay down, but he's got to be hungry. You, too."

"There's no food here," Hermione muttered, silently admitting to herself she could use a meal. Merlin, did she feel nauseas, but she wouldn't turn away a bowl of thick, hearty potato soup with some bread and butter.

"Which is why we should leave."

"Among other reasons. I'll..." Hermione stood up. "I'll fetch Alex. He probably won't want to leave, but we can't stay here."

Both doors were open when she arrived at Draco's threshold. She popped her head in and saw Alex lying down on his stomach facing away from her, his hands clutching the silk comforter.

"Alex," she said. His hands let go of the comforter, and he rolled over to face her, burying the lower half of his face into the mattress. His eyes were bloodshot, and his entire face was puffy and pinkish.

"Mama," he hoarsely called for her and slowly climbed off the bed before running towards her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her stomach and mumbled, "Why are you wet? Did you cry that much?"

Smoothing down his wild curls, she smiled ruefully at him. "Yeah, I did."

"Do you want Daddy, too?"

"Very much," Hermione whispered.

Alex sucked in a damp, sobbing breath and cried, "Why did he have to go? I didn't want him to."

"I don't know. Sometimes people just…go, and it's not fair to those who are left behind," Hermione hesitantly explained. Never before had she needed to explain to Alex as to why people die. Not once in his eight years had he suffered the devastation of losing a loved one, and it was most certainly unfair his first had to be his father. Draco had been young, only thirty, but Hermione knew Death took anyone regardless of age. She could not help but think of all the young bodies which had littered the ground of Hogwarts over twelve years ago. At the time, she had thought of herself as an adult, but she hadn't been. Not really. Hermione had been a child as all of the students around her had been, too. They were all children, and too many had perished.

"But I want my daddy. I want him really, really bad." Alex tightened his hold around his mother wept into the already soaked material of her sweater. "Bring him back."

"Oh, Sweetheart," Hermione replied lovingly. "If only I could, but you know I can't."

A strangled cry vibrated against her belly, and she continued to caress his hair and the back of his neck soothingly. She then gently grabbed his arms and loosened his hold on her, so she could bend down at eyelevel with him. With tears brimming, she cupped his face and placed her thumbs beneath his eyes to catch and wipe away his tears. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I wish every second that he was here. I don't want you to be sad. I don't want you to experience losing a parent so young. It's hard enough when you're older."

"Did you lose your daddy, too?" Alex croaked.

"In a way, yes," she said.

"And your mommy?"

Closing her eyes, Hermione sighed and nodded.

"I don't want to you to go away, too!" Alex fastened his arms around her neck and squeezed. "Please don't go away."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione softly affirmed while rubbing his back. "The next time you stick yourself to me, I'm not detaching you. I'm going to stay with you forever and ever and ever."

"Really?"

"Yep. When you go to school, I'm going have to go with you."

Sniffling, Alex replied, "I don't think Mrs. Fitchell would like that."

"And when you go to the park, I'll have to go, too. You'll probably have a difficult time playing with your friends."

"You're being silly, Mommy," Alex said in a hushed tone and wiped underneath his eyes with the sides of his wrists and forearms.

"Only a little," she murmured. "But, Alex, we have to go now. We can't stay here."

Pulling away, she saw Alex open his mouth and then close it, looking around the bedroom with a watery pout. "But I want to stay here. It's Daddy's home."

"I know you want to stay, Sweetheart, but this place wasn't really his home."

"It wasn't?"

Hermione shook her head somberly, loathing of what she was going to tell him, but it had to be done. He was utterly heartbroken, and she needed to mend it, even if it meant compromising her own heart eternally.

"No, this place was merely a resting place. Daddy spent most of his time at work or with his parents. You remember how we were talking about them, don't you?"

Alex nodded. "Are we going to stay with them?"

"No, but we are," Hermione paused to fight down the acidy bile creeping up to sear the back of her throat, "going to visit them. Probably tomorrow."

"Are they nice like Daddy?" he asked.

Hermione pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side slightly. Nice and Draco were not two words she would have put together in the same sentence, but Alex had only known the Daddy side of his father. As for the man's parents…

"They'll be nice to _you_. They better be, anyway," she said, caring little of how they treated her and was well aware of their dislike for her. The feeling was mutual.

"If we're not staying here or there, where are we going? A hotel?"

"Uh…" Hermione had not actually thought that far ahead. Where would they stay? Most certainly not a hotel. The moment she showed her identification to the front desk clerk, the paparazzi would be flooding the place before she and Alex reached their room.

"Granger?" Blaise called her name from the hallway. Still bent down and semi-embracing Alex, she turned and looked up while he asked, "Are you read to leave?"

"Almost. Where will we be leaving to?"

"Where do you want to go?"

Hermione shrugged and stood up, wringing her hands. "Somewhere we can't be bothered."

* * *

"Please put the newspaper down, Lucius. I'm not positive on how many times you have read it today, but I'm sure it has said the same thing each time," Narcissa said before cutting into her grilled fish. "Besides that, it's ill-mannered to read at the dinner table. This dining room is a place for family conversing while partaking of meals. Was that not what you told Draco whenever he would read here?"

"Darling, I'm only trying to figure out who spied on you and Miss Granger," her husband explained and bristled in surprise when the paper flew away from him and across the table into his wife's waiting hands. Smoothly, she folded the paper and proceeded to roll it up.

"Mippy," Narcissa called to her house-elf who appeared with a bow. Handing _The Daily Prophet_ to her, she ordered, "Take this away. My husband has read enough for the evening."

"Yes, Mistress." The elf took the newspaper, bowed, and then disappeared.

"Lucius, at the moment, I'm not terribly concerned about who spied on me and Miss Granger. My thoughts are on tomorrow." Pausing, she set down her fork and knife and broke her mask of cool collectivity with a beaming, pleased smile. "Blaise said that Miss Granger would most likely come over tomorrow with Alexander."

"Scorpius, Darling. His name is Scorpius. We should address him as such," her husband suggested with a haughty smirk.

"But Blaise said that we should call him by his middle name. He was afraid the boy may not appreciate being called Scorpius," Narcissa reminded urgently. "I don't want to upset the boy. I want everything to go smoothly tomorrow. It will set the tone for years to come."

"Cissa," Lucius sighed out gruffly and clasped his hands together. "Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare. I know you are excited to see the boy. I am, as well. Take into consideration, though, of why Miss Granger and _Scorpius_ are visiting. It won't be a social visit. They will not be smiles and giggles and complement the tea and biscuits. The child will be sad. From what Blaise said earlier, Miss Granger has immediate plans to tell the boy about Draco. Right now, the boy may know. Tomorrow when we see him, he will not be happy. He will be sad and-"

Narcissa silenced him by smacking her hands on the table and glaring at him. "You will not ruin this for me because you feel the need to demolish the excitement for yourself. I don't care if the boy is so distraught; his mother has to carry him the entire visit. I'm just grateful I get to see him. Lucius, when was the last time a child was in this house? It has been so long, so I will take _Alexander_ any way I can get him."

"Master. Mistress," Mippy reappeared and bowed. "Mrs. Parkinson-Weasley has been trying to reach Master and Mistress over the Floo for an hour."

Narcissa exhaled and covered her face with her hands, and Lucius said to the elf, "Tell Mrs. Parkinson-Weasley that right now is not a good time, but we got her letter and have read it."

"No." Narcissa raised a finger and waved it. "No, let her through but only her. I will not tolerate her husband this evening. Neutralize the Floo immediately after she passes. "

"Yes, Mistress."

"Put her in the Yellow Tea Room, serve her tea, and I shall arrive in time."

"Yes, Mistress," the elf said and bowed before disappearing.

"I don't think it's wise to have Pansy over, Cissa," Lucius commented. "Things are chaotic enough."

"I want to talk to her," she said firmly and moved away from the table to straighten her robes. "Now is not ideal, but I cannot think of a more suitable time. I believe you and I are going to be quite occupied for the next while."


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favored this fic. Thank you, thank you!

**Thank you to: Vaneesa85, hkmac, Aya Diefair, Jessica682, Angel Girl5, and pepperluck for the reviews. I got good comments and such. We shall see what this chapter has in store.**

Please read and review and tell me what you think. I love feedback.

Enjoy!

* * *

Alex groaned and stumbled over to the nearest suitable place he could rest. He saw a fluffy looking couch up ahead and climbed upon it and exhaled shakily. Hermione watched him carefully and unlinked her arm from Blaise's.

"Will this be okay?" he asked and she looked around and shifted uncomfortably on her feet, throwing a dubious glance at Blaise.

"I feel a tad underdressed, Zabini," she said to him, overwhelmed by the royal golden and white color scheme of what she assumed was the sitting room. Draco's apartment had been nice and tasteful in a businessman sort of way, but this place was somewhere out of a fairytale. It looked almost absurd to see her little boy lying supinely on the satiny-looking sofa dressed in his jeans and untied sneakers. "Where are we?"

"My place," Blaise answered while shirking his cloak and letting out an *ahem*. A house-elf appeared with a bow and took the cloak and placed it on the rack near the door behind them. The elf then bowed again, even though his master was not facing him, and disappeared.

"Really?" Hermione folded her arms and canted her hips to the side, tapping her foot, throwing him an incredulous stare. "You couldn't have walked the ten feet and put your own damned cloak on the rack?"

Blaise smirked at her, fire dancing in his dark eyes. "I only did it to see if I could get a rise out of you?" He chuckled in self-pleasure. "And I succeeded. It's good to see not all has changed about you, Granger."

Hermione clenched her teeth together and then forced herself to relax. Blithering ponce! He was just like Draco with his haughty ways and wretched personality, thinking it funny to boss around a house-elf merely to get a rise out of her. That was exactly the kind of thing Draco would have done to her.

"You make me ill," she told him in a calm, matter-of-fact voice which caused Blaise to burst into a full fit of chortles.

"What is he laughing at, Mommy?" Alex asked weakly from the sofa, his chin propped up on the armrest.

"Mr. Zabini thinks it's funny to boss around house-elves," Hermione explained to him.

"Mommy says only mean, rich, snobby people have them. Are you mean, rich, and snobby?"

"Yes."

"You're vile," Hermione said and rolled her eyes, sighin as she swept her gaze around the place again. "And where did you take us?"

"This is my London flat. I stay here when I'm on business."

Something caught Hermione's eye that had been stuffed between the cushion and armrest of the sofa chair next to her. Flicking her eyes on Alex who was looking up at the chandelier, she looped her finger around the scrap of fabric and pulled it out, letting the dark green satin bra dangle in front of Blaise.

"For business you said?" Hermione swung the lingerie like a pendulum with an enlightened expression upon her face. Sheepishly, Blaise snagged the fabric and tucked it into one of his trouser pockets, and she snorted. "That's lovely, Zabini. It all is, but I'm not sure your _business_ flat is suitable for these current circumstances."

"Just mind Alex's eyes and all will be fine," he suggested lightly and Hermione balled up a fist and punched him in the bicep, earning a pained wince from the man.

"Prat," she called him. "You're foul."

"You're hungry," he said and grabbed her forearm, intending to guide her to the dining area, but she planted her heels into the carpet. "Don't be this way, Granger. I know you don't want to be here, but there are not many other places where you can go and get the privacy you and Alex need."

Hermione stared at him grimly before nodding. "Fine."

"Are you hungry?"

Hermione nodded again.

"What would you like?"

Hermione shrugged and sucked in a sharp breath and then shrugged again. "Anything."

"What would Alex like?"

"If I ask him, he'll say he's not hungry. He'll eat whatever is already provided."

Blaise led her to the dining area and Alex lethargically followed, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks due to another wave of realization that his father was gone.

"Oh, Sweetheart," Hermione said to him at the dining table and petted his head as he wept into his glass of water. Wetness dewed her vision, and she dabbed underneath her bottom lashes with the sleeve of her sweater. To distract her, she focused her attention on the dining area. It was not particularly large but was of modest size with a nice mahogany dining table accompanied with stuffed chairs. Blaise sat at the head of the table and Hermione sat adjacently to him and Alex next to her. A few minutes of sitting in silence, with the exception of her and Alex's sniffles, the house-elf walked past the swing door of the kitchen with three floating trays. The elf snapped his finger, and the trays descended onto the table with the covers removed. Hermione closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

"Do you like macaroni and cheese?" asked Blaise.

Hermione then burst into tears.

* * *

"You haven't touched your tea," Narcissa pointed out to Pansy who was shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

"It's a little warm for tea," the younger witch mumbled and pointed the business end of her wand at herself and cast a Cooling Charm, humming in delight. "That's better and besides, I didn't spend the majority of the day trying to speak with you so I could have tea, Mrs. Malfoy. You also didn't allow me through the Floo just so we could have tea. We're both grown women and don't need frivolous things like tea to cover the fact that we both have much to discuss."

"Do we?" Narcissa feigned surprise and sipped daintily at her tea observing Pansy over the rim of her teacup. The poor girl had definitely seen better days. Her dark hair had probably started off curled and styled that morning but was now pinned up into a bun with strands falling out. Her maternity dress was fashionable, but the girl was plainly doing her best to stay awake.

"Don't play coy, Mrs. Malfoy. I know you want to know things, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I no longer feel obligated to withhold what I know about your grandson and Hermione Granger."

"I know enough," Narcissa lied with a small smile to provoke the younger witch. Her grin faded when Pansy solemnly shook her head.

"You know nothing. So you know about Draco's secret child. Mrs. Malfoy," Pansy leaned towards the middle of the table, "that is only the tip of a very large, very narrow and steep mountain. If you knew everything else, you would not have let me come over."

"Alright, Pansy, you have won. Tell me. Start from the beginning," Narcissa said, sitting up straight in preparation for what the younger woman had to say.

"Before I do, I want my intentions to be clear. I am not gossiping. I am not saying any of this out of spite because of my low opinion of Hermione Granger. This is her business, but it was Draco's, as well. He's no longer with us, so I feel you have a right to some of the details I picked up these last few years. I sincerely doubt _that_ woman will tell you any of this."

Sensing the gravity in Pansy's tone, Narcissa asked hesitantly, "Should I fetch Lucius?"

"I think what I'm about to tell you should stay between us for now."

"But-"

"I have learned there are things that husbands should not know."

Narcissa nodded and said nothing, swallowing nervously and setting her hands on the table. "Tell me what you know."

* * *

_December 2007_

"Thank you for inviting us," said Pansy to Lucius and Narcissa. She had her arm linked through her stony-faced husband's while she waved her other hand at the host for the evening as Ron guided her to the Floo.

Once home, Pansy dusted off her robes, ignoring her husband as he Floo-ed in behind her, muttering unintelligible curses under his breath. Her eye caught something under the Christmas tree, and she balked, "Oh no! I forgot to give Draco his present. Ron, would you please go back and give it to him?"

Ron threw his body on to his sofa chair facing the fireplace. He had a drink already in his hand. "No."

"Please. It's late. I want to give the children kisses before they go to bed and…Ronald, we talked about this." Pansy shuffled over and extracted the half-empty glass of scotch from his clutch and dodged his pout. "No drinking. Remember what the Mind-Healer said."

"Bloody hell, I couldn't have a drink at the party. I can't have a drink in my own house?"

"Absolutely not," snapped Pansy.

"I can have one drink."

"It's never _one_ drink with you. Now get up and go kiss your children goodnight because you won't let me. I need to give Draco his present." Vanishing the glass, she then pulled on Ron's hand as hard as she could.

"Alright, alright. I'll go give the kids some attention." Ron climbed to his feet, his sulk still in place.

"And make sure Rosie takes her fever-reducing potion."

"Yeah, yeah." Her husband waved his hand dismissively and started climbing up the stairs.

Pansy quickly Floo-ed back to the Malfoy Manor and hurriedly stepped out of the way for a departing guest, giving the wizard a bidding smile.

"You're back," Narcissa said in mild surprise, turning away from a witch she was talking to.

"I forgot to give Draco his Christmas present," Pansy explained and gestured to the gift in her hands.

"Oh, you barely missed him. He's probably at his suite."

"I'll just go over there then. Thank you," Pansy said and Apparated outside of Draco's flat door and knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again.

Still no answer.

"Draco," she called through the door. "It's Pansy."

Pressing her ear to the door, she listened for any sound but heard nothing. Experimentally, she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it. Of course it was locked. The idea of hastily popping inside and leaving the present on his desk came into mind.

The lights were off and the flat was quiet when she appeared in the middle of the sitting room. She walked over to Draco's office door and knocked to be sure he was not around and then slowly opened the door. She placed the gift on the desk and decided to write him a quick note that explained how the present came to be on his desk.

A discarded quill lay flat on a piece of parchment, and Pansy sat down on Draco's chair and picked it up before going in search for some parchment. Finding none on the desk, she began opening and closing side drawers. In the bottom, right-hand drawer, she found a fresh square of parchment and took it, closing the drawer quickly.

Dipping the quill tip into an open bottle of ink, she wrote the D of Draco and then stopped, looked up from her letter, and then back at the bottom-right hand drawer. Dropping the quill, she blinked and tentatively opened the drawer. Her breath hitched at what she saw and with insecure fingers and wide eyes, she reached her hand in and picked up the framed picture.

A crack echoed through the flat, and Pansy nearly dropped the picture, her heart beating rapidly from being startled. From the main room, she heard muttering coming closer.

"I forgot. How could I bloody forget?"

Draco turned on the light of the office, and Pansy sat frozen in his seat, the picture frame pressed against her chest. When he saw her, he stopped and gave her an alarmed stare.

"Pansy, what are you doing here?"

Pansy blinked and raised an eyebrow and flipped the picture frame over with a twist of her wrist and asked, "Who's this?"

Cautiously, she watched him walk further into the office, distrust plain on his face. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I forgot to give you your Christmas gift, so I brought it over. I went to leave a note and found this." With her hand cupping the frame, she tapped it with her pointer finger. "Who is this?"

"Pansy…"

She looked at the photograph again and cinched her eyebrows together and carefully studied the curly blond-haired boy who was waving at her with a cute grin. The boy looked about four and had round, rosy cheeks and was sitting in a restaurant booth. Placed in front of him was a large bowl of chocolate ice cream covered with caramel and whipped cream.

A stab of betrayal penetrated her heart and soul and her vision began to blur which was stupid because just a silly picture of a boy who looked like…

Sniffling, she put her eyes back on Draco who she knew was grasping for ideas on what lie to feed her. Swallowing thickly, she asked a different question, "Who's the mother?"

"Pansy, I…" Draco's speech faltered and he shook his head and growled out, "I can't explain this to you right now. I have to go."

She stood from the chair, her head shaking, too. "You are not leaving," she stated in a low voice. "You are not leaving until you have explained _this_." She lifted up the picture

"You don't understand that I have to leave," Draco near yelled and marched over to the desk and snagged the piece of parchment Pansy had found the quill on moments before. His eyes skimmed the writing on it and then stuffed it inside his trouser pocket muttering, "Shite."

"Draco, don't you dare leave! You will explain this to me right now!" Pansy shouted and waved the picture at him. "Who is he? Y-Y-Your…"

"I have to go!" Draco barked in exasperation and then chuckled like his throat was swelling. He looked away. "I have to leave. Don't…" he vaguely pointed to the photograph while walking backwards out of his office. "Don't tell anyone."

"You _will _explain this to me right now! I'm your friend, Draco! I'm your…Draco wait-"

He was gone with a crack, and she stared wet-eyed at the spot he Disapparated from.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list. I sure appreciate it!

**Thank you to: hkmac, Musette Fujiwara, Vaneesa85, Jessica682, Kou Shun'u, Angel Girl5, Guest, Angelus Draco, and sweet-tang-honney** for the reviews. I got some comments about Pansy and what she is up to. We shall see, we shall see. I also got some comments about Ron. Don't judge him too harshly. I'm not saying I have little faith in men or fathers, but I have not personally met one (including my own sweetheart and daddy) who eagerly bounded up the stairs or down the hallway to kiss their children goodnight. It doesn't mean they're bad fathers or husbands or that they don't give their children attention. I've come to find that men show their affection differently than women when it comes to kids. Anyway, enough of that.

I also got a couple of questions, and I'll answer one of them because I don't want to give too much away. I got asked if Astoria would be popping up in the future, and I will say yes.

Now on with Chapter 29! Read and Review, please, and tell me your thoughts.

* * *

_Present Day_

"That's how you found out? Simply by accident?" questioned Narcissa and she cocked her head to the side. "Where was Draco going?"

"Where do you think?"

Narcissa was silent for a moment and then diffidently nodded. "To Salem."

"To Salem," Pansy verified. "But I didn't know it at the time."

"And you said he came back for a piece of parchment? What was on that parchment that was so important?" the older woman asked and watched the younger witch's eyes succumb with something akin to pity.

Pansy resituated herself in the seat and rested her forearms on the table and said, "I wasn't sure then. I didn't even think about it right away. You can imagine I was still in shock at discovering that Draco had a child."

"What was on the parchment?" Narcissa asked again.

Pansy looked away and knitted her eyebrows together, physically telling Narcissa that she was troubled. "The parchment was a letter and…let me tell you delicately, Mrs. Malfoy. I feel like I can't simply drop this on you."

"Pansy," Narcissa's voice hitched in worry, "What happened?"

She cast another Cooling Charm on her face and said, "Something tragic."

Pansy continued where she left off, standing in Draco's flat on Christmas night, strictly leaving out personal anecdotes. Mrs. Malfoy did not need hear them.

* * *

_December 2007_

"Gods!" she wailed and went to wipe underneath her eyes but realized she still had the picture in her hand. Staring at the photograph of the boy, her thumb rubbed over the glass, tracing the boy's features. There was no denying who the boy belonged to. He was completely Draco with the exception of the curls.

She shuffled back into his office and placed the picture back into the drawer and then grabbed the open bottle of ink still on the desk and threw it against the wall, splattering black ink and glass everywhere.

"You- You pillock! How could you keep this from me?! I'm your friend, you bastard! How could you not tell me?!" she screeched and then closed her eyes and moaned. Morgana, what was she doing? What kind of sophisticated woman, dutiful mother of four, patient and loving wife throws a tantrum inside her friend's office? She wasn't sixteen anymore.

Taking deep breaths to calm her emotions and nerves, Pansy relaxed in Draco's chair for few pensive moments before pointing her wand at the mess she made and cleaned it up. There was little use in doing anything else with Draco not present. Wherever he went, he best be prepared for the interrogation of his life upon his return because she was going to pounce on him. Until then, though, she needed to pull herself together and go back home.

"You took a bit longer than I thought you would," Ron said to her when she entered her daughter's room. He was holding their five-year old, Rose, and she rested limply in his arms, her head slack on his shoulder and her breathing heavy. Her husband squint his eyes at her and frowned. "Are you alright? You looked frazzled."

"Yeah," Pansy vaguely replied and shook her head, walking further into her daughter's room.

"What took you so long?" he asked.

"I wasn't gone that long."

"Longer than necessary."

"What are you implying?"

Ron said nothing but kissed Rose on the cheek and laid her down gently on the bed and tucked her in. The little girl shifted a bit, bringing both her hands near her ears and started snoring, her snores sounding similar to a dying bee. He smiled down at her and brushed away the stray, ginger strands from her forehead.

"Answer me," Pansy demanded and followed Ron out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

"Nothing," Ron mumbled and stopped at his bedroom door. "I implied nothing. Goodnight."

"No, no. You implied something. You said I was gone longer than necessary. What did you mean by that?"

Ron banged his head against the door and then growled, "You know what I meant, Pansy."

"Jealousy is unbecoming, and there's certainly nothing to be jealous of. Draco and I are-"

"Friends," her husband finished bitterly, his face still facing the door. "You two are positively chummy."

"Ron," she said while sucking in a deep breath and took a step towards him and placed her hand on his bicep and affectionately told him, "I love you. He's my friend, but you're my best friend. I would never have an affair."

She heard him sniffle and wondered if he had snuck a drink in her absence. He then asked quietly, "Then why won't you let me back in the bedroom? It's not right sleeping in separate rooms."

"Because we need our space right now. That's what the Mind-Healer said, remember? She told us-"

"Bullocks is what she said. I get that I'm not supposed to drink, but I can't even shag my wife until that bleedin' harpy gives me the go ahead."

"She wants what's best for our marriage."

"It's healthy to shag in a marriage. We haven't in almost a year. That is not a marriage. What we're doing," Ron waved his hand between them, "isn't real. It's fake."

"Don't say that. You…you agreed to the sessions, and I came with you."

"When I needed them, Pansy. I don't need them anymore."

"But your drinking-"

"Is because I can't even get my wife to look at me like I'm her husband? Sure, we are all good and dandy for the kids, for our friends."

Pansy covered her face and wept silently into her hands and then said, "Maybe we should go see a different Healer."

"Yeah, that'll do it. Still trying to fix me. Can't see that I'm bleedin' fine-"

"Not a Mind-Healer, Ron," she sobbed. "We need to fix _us_. We're not happy, and we cannot risk our babies' wellness because we don't know how to communicate with each other."

"Bloody hell," her husband cursed and turned around to resume banging his head against the door. "Marriage counseling. I don't want to go to one of those." He stopped hitting his head and then said, "Let's just shag."

Wiping her eyes, Pansy scoffed, "Sex isn't the answer to this problem."

"Uh…yeah it is. We haven't in a long time. If there are more problems, then at least we can remedy this one."

"Ronald, I'm really not in the mood."

"Of course not. It's only been a year since your last shag. You know, I remember a time I couldn't get you off of me."

"I remember, as well." Pansy came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back. "It's why we got married."

"I thought we got married because we loved each other," her husband said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

"Well…yes," Pansy sniffled and sort of smiled, "that, too. But, darling, we both agreed if it hadn't been for Rose, we would have waited a couple of more years."

Ron was silent for a while and then whispered, "I'm glad she didn't want to wait."

"Me, too," she said back and squeezed her arms tighter around her husband. "I think I want to shag you now."

While lying next to her husband, Pansy stayed awake, rehashing in her mind of what had occurred at Draco's flat. Her active thoughts were causing her restlessness, and she had been unable to fall asleep and around three in the morning, she slipped out of bed and walked the halls of her house and checked in on Joseph and Jacob, then Matthew, and then Rose.

For the next couple of days, she went her daily tasks of taking care of her children until she got word from Narcissa that Draco was back and wasted no time in Apparating over to his flat on the evening of the 27th.

"Draco," she called out to him while standing in the middle of his sitting room. She craned her head around in search for him. "Where are you? You're mother said you came back from a brief trip in Brittany. We have much to talk about concerning what happened a couple of days ago."

Silence.

"Draco," she called for him again and went towards his office, beginning and ending her search there. In the dark, he sat at his desk with a near-empty glass of scotch and completely empty bottle next to him, his head hung low and his breathing choppy.

"Draco, my Gods. What are you doing here sitting in the dark like some weirdo? Are you alright?" She went to turn on the light but thought better of it and instead sat down in the chair across him. He hardly moved or even gave her the impression he noticed her entrance. She tilted her head and bent her back to see if his eyes were open, and they were. Her friend sat motionless in his chair, and the only sound in the room was his breathing, and all she could think was something horrible must have happened. Dear Merlin, she hadn't seen him like this since he was sixteen.

"What happened?" she asked and reached her hand towards his and covered it, squeezing to get some sort of reaction. "You can tell me, Draco. I'm your friend. Why are you acting this way?"

His reply was so quiet, she had to strain her ears to hear his words. "Am I a monster?"

"Pardon?" Pansy inquired in confusion and leaned forward. "A monster? No."

"Am I bad person?"

"…no. Draco what-'

"Can I ever be forgiven for my sins from the war?"

"The war? Draco, please don't think about the war. Is that why you're holed up here in the dark? You got thinking about the war and decided to ease the memories with a drink or twenty? I suddenly feel at home." She whispered the last part to herself and leaned over further and took the glass away from him.

"Can't help it," he mumbled and then sniffed and let out a wet, mirthless chuckle. "She makes me think about it every time."

"Who does?"

"She doesn't even have to tell me to. The way she treats me," her friend wept, and in the dark, she could see his shoulders stutter and her heart ached for him, but she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Who, Draco?" she asked.

Draco's body shook as his right hand came to the buttons on his left sleeve. He unbuttoned it as if his fingers were numb, slow and sloppy. He pulled up the cuff and exposed his faded but still visible Dark Mark above his wrist.

"That's all she sees now. I think she used to see more than that. She used to say," he lowered his head on his desk and continued, "she used to say she loved me, but I don't think she does anymore."

Pansy shook her head and said, "Who are you talking about?"

"I want a life with her," Draco said in emotional determination and sat up straight again and then scanned his eyes over his desk. "Where's my drink?"

"I think you've had enough," she said and he peered at her like he finally realized he was not alone in his office.

"Pansy, what are you doing here?" he slurred in alarm.

"I came here to have questions answered, but I have found myself in a position where I have more questions. Draco, what were you going off about? The war? A girl? Do you…Do you have a girlfriend or something?"

"I did, but I don't…" His sentence faded and his chest stuttered in preparation for more weeping. "Pansy, how can your husband bear to look at you?"

"Excuse me," she balked, gaping at him in dubiety. What did he just say to her?

"How can The Weasel look at you knowing and hearing with his own freckled ears what you said at the Battle? How you wanted to offer up his best friend in exchange for a reward from the Dark Lord? Why did he marry you? Why does he love you?"

"Oh my Gods," Pansy said in a hushed voice, her eyebrows meeting with her hairline. "You dare bring that up, you hypocrite? Like you're so much better? At least my sins can't be seen." She pointed at the marred skin accusingly, her defensiveness overruling her maturity and senses. "How can anyone look at you knowing-"

"I want to know how he can look past your flaws!" roared Draco and violently swept his hands across his desk and brought quills, parchment, and files crashing to the floor. Pansy jumped in her seat and stood up, her heart racing in her chest, instinct telling her she was in danger and should leave.

"You need to calm down, Draco. If you do so, I will overlook this-"

"No! I want to know how you got your husband to love you and to marry you and to have more than one baby with you! I want to know how the bloody hell did you get him to trust you, Parkinson?! He used to hate you! How has he not cast you out of his life, out of your children's lives?! How can he forgive you for being the stupidest bitch in Hogwarts?! Because, seriously, I can't imagine the sex being great enough to make up for everything."

"I'm leaving," Pansy was about to say but her departing words fell short when Draco plopped back down his chair and said, "She can't forgive me. She says she has, and maybe she believes it, but I know. I know she hasn't. She pretends like she has, but I saw the truth this time. She doesn't trust me, and why should she? I'm a monster begat by monsters."

Debating whether to leave or not, Pansy tapped her foot and then decided to try one more time despite wanting nothing more than to beat Draco within an inch of his pitiful life.

"Did something happen in Brittany that you would like to talk about?" she tried again, impatience heavily coating her question.

"I didn't go to Brittany," he said softly and pensively.

"You didn't? Where did you go if it wasn't Brittany?"

Draco smiled shortly. "I went to see him…and her."

"Draco, please." She put a hand on her chest. "You're aching to tell me something, but I will not grapple like we're in a guessing game. Just tell me, so I can help you."

"I went to see Scorpius. I always see him at Christmas. His mother, too."

"Scorpius," Pansy repeated and then realization hit her. "That's his name. The boy in the picture. That's his name."

"I love him. He's my prince. I wish I could see him more, but his mother and my parents and-"

"Who's his mother?"

He shook his head and groaned, "I can't say."

"You've already said so much. It won't hurt to say more," Pansy assured and even in Draco's drunken state, he looked at her in disbelief.

"She thinks it will."

"She's not here right now. She doesn't have to know that you told me. I won't tell anybody. I promise. This will be our secret and ours alone. Remember when we were little and I would keep your secrets? I still haven't told anybody you wet the bed until you six."

"I told Blaise and Theo your first kiss was your cousin Peter."

Pansy pressed her lips together tightly before replying in a thin voice, "I know. That's why I said I kept _your_ secrets and not that we kept _each other's_ secrets."

"And that you used tongue."

"I still won't tell anyone."

"I also told them you stuffed your bra from Third Year up."

"Which wasn't a secret, it was a lie you told because I wouldn't let you touch my breasts, you sick little pervert."

"She won't let me touch her breasts, either," Draco said sullenly. "She used to let me, and she'd get all fussy and cute about it and blushed like she was fifteen again. I think I loved her at fifteen, too, but she never blushed for me then. I didn't get to touch her knockers then, either."

"You knew her at fifteen," Pansy said. "She went to Hogwarts with us? Who is she?"

A glazed over expression of dewiness flittered over Draco's face and he smiled at the ceiling like he was recalling a memory. "Remember when she did spew?"


	30. Chapter 30

_A glazed over expression of dewiness flittered over Draco's face and he smiled at the ceiling like he was recalling a memory. "Remember when she did spew?"_

"When she did _what_? Spew? She spewed?"

"You can't remember spew? Our fourth year?"

"Spew," Pansy whispered to herself, thinking he must've lost his mind. Fourth year replayed in her mind, and all she could really place was the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Cedric boy dying, random faces of Durmstang and Beauxbatons students, and the Yule Ball where Draco finally found the guts to kiss her. That had been a fun night for her and loads of other people.

"Remember the Yule Ball?" she inquired with a grin. "Ron's brothers spiked the punch, and we drank it."

"Yes, I remember," he said hoarsely, like his thoughts were thousands of miles away. "Remember when she wore that pretty dress?"

Instead of asking who again, Pansy tried a new tactic and relaxed in her seat and nodded gingerly. "Yes I do. She looked nice."

"More than nice, but never mind that. I still couldn't stand her. Still can't, actually, but I yearn to shag her all the time."

"What do you like most about her? She seems to have you in quite the peril, Draco. There must be something worthwhile about her. Something that keeps you going back for more?" Pansy winced at her words, unsure of if she was on the right path. For all she knew, she said a very silly thing.

"I like her arse."

"Lovely. Anything else?"

Draco chuckled throatily. "What else is there?" He then quieted and sighed. "I like her eyes and her mouth. I especially like her mouth for numerous reasons. I like her hair and how she keeps it long for me, so when I visit her, I can tug on it while I shag her in oblivion. I like her laugh. She doesn't do it often, at least not around me, but sometimes I get to hear it."

Pansy nodded and refrained from cursing because Draco had yet to give her any kind description that would help her figure out this mystery woman he had a child with.

"Yes, I can understand why you like those things about her. Her eyes are indeed very…"

"Brown. Very brown indeed. They sparkle, too, but they also can be harsh."

"I know, right. I agree," Pansy continued to play along. "And her hair it's so…thick?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I love her curls. Scorpius loves them, too. He's five, and he still likes to play with his mummy's hair. It's darling."

Brown eyes, curly thick hair…

"And it's still wild like it was when she was young."

Something cold and terrifying made Pansy's insides freeze and she rasped out, "Still wild, you say?"

"Yes."

Covering her mouth to muffle her gasp, she stared at Draco like he had morphed into a stranger. Shaking her head in denial, she stood up from her seat. "Granger! Oh my Gods, you're talking about Granger! That's…Draco, that's impossible. No one has seen or heard from her in ages. Some say she went back to the Muggle World, gave up her wand and everything. You have completely gone around the twist, you have! Who are you really talking about?"

Her friend did not answer her right away but simply rested in his chair, so she said his name again. His response was not at all what she expected.

"Two years ago in Belgium, Sylvie Jansen sued an apothecary after her ill husband passed away. Do you remember hearing about it?"

"Of course I do, Draco. Apothecaries all over Europe buckled down and had to be even more careful with peoples' medicines and names. A simple misreading of a patient's name cost Michel Jansen's life. Why are you bringing it up?"

"Does your mother's cousin's husband still live in Boston? The solicitor?"

"Well…yes, but I'm not following here. One minute we're talking about a long lost woman and the next you're bringing up a case that has nothing to do with what we were talking about," she said in exasperation and then sobered. "Is it really Granger? Is she the one you were talking about?"

Draco bobbed his head up and down and sucked in a deep breath, telling Pansy he was beginning to sober and he wasn't lying. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and exhaled shakily and said, "I'd like the name of that lawyer and some background information on him. I want to know everything about him before he's hired."

"You want to hire him?" sputtered Pansy. "For what? You have lawyers. Lots of them, and they're here in Britain. Do you need a lawyer in Boston for some reason and…we were talking about Granger. Why are you changing subjects? We need to talk about this?"

"We are!" he snapped and hit his hand on the desk in irritation and glared at her. "I could make you leave, Parkinson. This isn't your business at all."

Controlling her pride, Pansy said calmly, "You're right. It's not, but I think you could use a friend right now. I don't know what happened with…" she paused, "Granger…or why you need a lawyer in Boston. Nevertheless, I get the impression you're dying to tell someone something, and you can tell me. I'm right here, and we already discussed that I don't expose your secrets. Not to anybody. I won't even tell Ron."

"I need another drink," Draco murmured and went to stand, but Pansy stopped him with a peeved glare.

"No you don't. Please sit down and tell me why you need a Bostonian lawyer, who is not even that well-known, by the way?"

"That's good. She won't want a flashy attorney, just someone who knows what they are doing."

"And by she, I'm guessing you mean…Granger. My Gods, I can't even say her name! How did you two-"

"I'll contact him as soon as possible. I don't want to waste any more time with this."

"You still haven't told me why you need the lawyer. For the past half-hour, I've been repeating my brains out, trying to get you to answer a handful of a few simple questions."

"Fine," Draco said quietly and rubbed his face like he was exhausted, suddenly appearing quite older than twenty-seven. He pinched the skin between his brows and spoke like his throat was swelling, "I mentioned the Jansen vs. Laurent Apothecaries case because I've been put into a situation quite similar. More than anything, I would prefer one of my own solicitors to take care of this disaster, but given the circumstances, it's out of the question."

"Your medicine got switched with someone else's at an apothecary? Draco that's…I didn't even know you were on medicine."

"Not _my_ medicine, Pansy," he said bitterly and sniffled. "Granger's. Her potions and another customer's potion of the apothecary were not handled with care and were presumably switched up."

* * *

_Present Day_

"Oh my. That could not have been good, but now that you mention it, Miss Granger did say she went through a court case a few years ago." Narcissa tapped her chin thoughtfully, attempting to absorb all the information Pansy had given her. Apparently, Draco had feelings for the girl which ran deeper than merely being the mother of his child. Had Miss Granger not seen her son in high regards? That filthy little tart! She should be so lucky as to have had the attention of Pureblood elegance! From what Pansy had described, that trollop broke her boy's heart.

"And I doubt she told you why," Pansy said.

"I didn't even think to ask," Narcissa admitted. "People and their frivolous legalities don't concern me much. Now tell me what the fuss was about. Draco seemed upset for Miss Granger's welfare. Did she become ill or was she merely upset about having someone else's medicine."

"Uh…" Pansy began and placed a hand on her belly, feeling a sudden jolt from the inside which warmed her heart. She smiled bitter-sweetly at Narcissa. "Both, I guess you could say. Draco had been reluctant to tell me of her condition, but he eventually told me. You see, Mrs. Malfoy, Miss Granger had been on a prescribed potion by her Healer for a few months. According to Draco, she had run out of her monthly supply and went to retrieve a refill from the local apothecary. When she walked out, she had Hermia Grant's prescription. Unfortunately for Miss Granger, the potions looked similar enough for her to go unnoticed that she was drinking someone else's medicine. It only took a few days for her body to catch up, and the effects almost killed her."

"That's horrible," Narcissa stated, feeling only the slightest inkling of pity towards Hermione. "Almost killed her? She's fine now, though, I saw. The effects weren't chronic, I take it."

Pansy clasped her hands and rested them on her prominent belly and looked at the wall behind Narcissa and agreed, "No, it hadn't become chronic, at least not in the physical sense. I'd think she probably suffers emotional trauma, more so than she did before the…"

"Yes?" Narcissa urged.

The younger witch frowned at her untouched tea and then said, "Mrs. Malfoy, Miss Granger had been six months pregnant at the time and miscarried."

* * *

After a difficult supper, Blaise lead Hermione and Alex down the hallway in his flat, each side having three doors. He stopped at the middle one on the left and opened it and gestured for his two guests to go in. Once they were inside, he offered, "Alex can sleep here if he wants."

The room was larger than what an eight year old needed and less decorative than his room back in Salem. The walls were white with a simple dark blue border near the edges of the ceiling. There was also a single sofa-chair next to the window and a bookshelf filled with books. Empty frames hung on the wall, so Hermione asked, "Will the portrait occupants be returning?"

"No, they're back in Italy. I'll make sure they stay there," the man replied.

"Do you like this room, Alex?" she asked her son who somberly and slightly bobbed his head up and down. He walked to the king size bed with the starch white comforter and blue swirl-like designs. It had an artfully designed bed posters with blue curtains. He climbed upon it and laid down with his arms and legs spread out. Her boy stayed that way for a few seconds before turning on his side and curling into a ball.

"The bed's kind of big," she quietly said Blaise, thinking her son looked like a very small lump compared to the mattress's size.

"I can make it smaller, but I don't think the transfiguration will hold through the night," he told her. "Would you like me to show you your room?"

"I can just sleep here next to him," she said and swallowed and looked down at the floor. "I don't think I want to leave him alone all night…or ever."

"Are you sure?"

"For now, yes," Hermione assured and set her travelling satchel down on the floor next to the sturdy, cedar dresser at the foot of the bed and studied Alex. His eyelids had drifted shut while his breathing became shallow. Gingerly, she took off his shoes and then pulled the sheets down and carefully maneuvered him underneath.

"Will you be turning in, as well?" Blaise asked and Hermione shook her head no.

"No," she said and walked to the light switch next to the door and flipped off the lights and Blaise followed after her. He left the door ajar and walked with her back into the sitting room.

"I'm sorry about dinner. I just thought that Alex might like it because children usually go for macaroni and cheese," he said and she smiled sadly at his unnecessary apology.

"No, it wasn't your fault. It was delicious. Really, it was, it's just…" Hermione sat down on the couch facing the fireplace and contorted her features in anguish, "a long story."

"I have time," he offered and sat down next to her, but she kept her focus on the flames.

"Not that much time, I promise you that."

She didn't see Blaise quirk a brow at the challenge. He made an *ahem* sound and his house-elf appeared in front of Hermione, blocking her view of the flames. He bowed and inquired, "Yes, Master Zabini?"

"Ogden's finest. Two glasses," Blaise told him.

"No," Hermione said to the man and then told the elf, "No."

The elf ignored her and vanished, quickly returning with his master's order and set it on the coffee table before disappearing again. Blaise leaned over and filled a glass half-full of the liquid and offered it to her.

"No, Blaise," she groaned and then he reached over and placed the glass underneath her nose.

"Smell that? Doesn't it smell like salvation?" he taunted with a half-hearted smirk.

"If salvation smelled like damnation."

"Take it, Granger. You know it will make you feel better."

"I sincerely doubt that. I told you I do stupid things when I drink," Hermione reminded but took the glass, so the beverage wouldn't slosh up into her nostrils. With a secure hand around it, the glass now rested safely on her thigh.

"For days after Draco died, I holed up in my room with a goal in mind to never sober. Constantly, I would call upon my house-elf to have a new drink ready for me."

Hermione furrowed her brow and stared at him in antipathy. "That was real thick of you? How did you not get alcohol poisoning?"

"I probably would have if it hadn't been for my elf who had gone to my mother and told her what I had done," explained Blaise with a shrug. "You're not the only one who does stupid things when drunk, Granger."

"You're a moron, Zabini, but my drunken foolishness is not asking for more booze."

"Then what do you do?" he asked with sincere interest.

Waving her hand at him dismissively, she ignored the question. With her glass still resting on her leg, he clinked his to it and said, "Cheers."

"There's nothing cheerful about this situation," she said to him and watched with envy as he guzzled his drink in a few gulps. With temptation, she looked down at her own drink and wondered if it really would be unwise of her to take the edge off this way. Her cigarettes were in her purse. She could simply slither out onto the balcony past the double doors with the blinds on them and have good cry while retrieving her nicotine fix for the night. But maybe a little alcohol wouldn't hurt. Just enough to make her sleepy for night without the burden of dreams.

Bringing the glass to her lips, the smell of damning salvation wafted up her nose once more and the macaroni and cheese churned in her belly, promising her future regurgitation if she went through with it. Despite the warning, she tilted her head back and swallowed a mouthful, her gag reflexes instantly kicking in from the taste.

"Easy, easy," Blaise said and Hermione forced down the burning liquid and wetly coughed.

Wiping gracelessly at her mouth with her sleeve, she wheezed out, "I'm fine. I just haven't had Ogden's finest in…well, I don't think I've ever had it, actually. I preferred trying other drinks. When I was younger, anyway."

"I can get you something else," he said and started naming off some suggestions. "Wine, tequila, vodka, whiskey, Firewhiskey. Name your pick."

Hermione sniffled and licked her lips at the suggestions, smiling kind of shyly. "Do you have butterbeer?"

"You're not going to get drunk off of butterbeer, Granger. You might as well drink fizzy, watered down caramel."

"Do you have it?" Hermione asked again.

Blaise sneered in acceptance and nodded. "Yeah, I got it. I don't know why I have it around now that you mention it, but yes, I have it."

"I'll take that and the vodka if you don't mind." Hermione dodged Blaise's pejorative stare before he summoned his elf again with the order who returned quickly with the drinks.

"This was _my_ drink before I had Alex," she informed while leaning towards the coffee table and grabbing each bottle, simultaneously pouring the liquid into an empty glass, filling it to the brim with light, orangey brown fizz.

"You're going to drink all that piss?" questioned Blaise in revulsion. "What kind of self-respecting witch would drink that?"

Hermione placed her lips on the rim of the glass and swallowed gulp after gulp after gulp until all that was left was foam. Exhaling in victory, she set down the empty glass on the table and hiccupped sharply before lightly burping.

"I think we both know, Mr. Zabini, that I'm no self-respecting witch," Hermione said and hiccupped again followed by refilling the glass.

"You're going to have another?" squeaked Blaise in alarm.

"I really shouldn't, but I haven't had one since I was…" she squint her eyes and cocked her head to the side in thought, "twenty-two, I think. The States don't have butterbeer. Besides, I want to sleep well tonight. I don't want to think about having to go over to Malfoy Manor tomorrow. I don't want to think about anything right now."

Hermione drained her second glass in a few short seconds and then clenched her eyes shut and whipped her head back and forth.

Sensing that the woman was beginning to lose her inhibitions, Blaise slowed down on his sips. He was most certainly going to take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself by asking light, unimposing questions.

"So, Granger, tell me about your bookstore? When did you start it up?"

"Hmm? Oh, my bookstore? I opened it up a year and half ago. I actually bought it from the previous owner who was looking to move."

"What made you decide to do that? What were you doing before?"

Hermione blinked at him, and Blaise could tell she was not sloshed enough to provide all details. She replied, "I sold cosmetics for a number of years. Since Alex was practically newborn. It was only supposed to be a temporary thing, just a job to help me save up to go back to school, but I started building a small business for myself. I was getting paid quite a lot of money doing that, but Alex was growing up. We were still living in the flat Draco set us up in. I decided to change my priorities a bit. Instead of saving up for school, I decided to save up for a house. I hadn't lived long in my house when…"

"Yes?" Blaise urged for her to go on and watched her slurp at her drink and set down the glass, unaware of the foam mustache she was sporting. Her eyes grew dewy and her entire demeanor closed itself off from him.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said very quietly and looked away.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, encouraging her to talk. The more she talked, the more he knew about her. The more he knew about her, the better the puzzle pieces fit. And bloody hell, she was the most complex jigsaw catastrophe he had ever come across.

Hermione's vision blurred and tilted, the dying flames of the fireplace luring her into a trance. After a while, she asked, "How can you have a fireplace in your apartment? Where does the smoke go?"

"Wherever I want it," he replied and finished off his glass and poured himself another. Instead of sipping this one, he downed the drink like he did his first one and exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the burn. He turned his head and saw Hermione staring at him; her head leaned back against the cushion with her eyes glazed and unseeing, catching the fire's light from the Floo.

"You have a foam mustache," he told her and reached over and brushed his right thumb above her lip, dragging it across the skin to catch every bit and then went rigid when he felt something wet prick the digit and lick away the butterbeer and vodka remnants.

"Granger," he said warningly, but if she heard him, she made no indication of such. He pulled his hand back and leaned away from her, the idea of running hadn't even crossed his mind.

Hermione hooked her arm over the top of the couch and used the back for leverage in helping her kneel on the cushions and woozily crawl towards him. The closer she came, the farther he leaned away until his back was flat against the cushion. Silently, he watched crawl above him where she hovered for a split second before lowering her body down flush against his, releasing her entire weight upon him, and he offhandedly thought how grateful he was that she wasn't hefty woman. Fuller-figured was the right term for her.

Blaise felt her warm breath tickle his chin and swallowed insecurely and hoarsely said, "I don't think-"

"Me neither," she interjected and placed her lips on his.

To be continued...

* * *

A/N: Remember what I said in my A/N a couple of chapters ago? No matter what you read in future chapters…I still stand by that firmly.

Thank you readers, followers, reviewers, and those who have placed this fic on their favorite's list.

Thank you to: hkmac, youcantbesirius-1, Kar-Kar93, twiliteroket, Musette Fujiwara, Anna122, Angel Girl5, Guest, alina290, Vaneesa85, and Aya Diefair for the reviews. Very nice things were said, and I enjoyed reading them.

I did get some questions, but I feel like I've already answered them, either by past A/Ns or through the story. I know sometimes we as readers don't catch everything in every single chapter, so it never hurts to go back and reread. Don't take this the wrong way, my lovely readers and reviewers, but I super-duper don't like repeating myself. And I'm fully aware I get questions just for the sake of a question, but for those who are serious about wanting to know something, be cautionary with your inquiries and be sure to catch A/Ns. I know I can't always answer them because of spoiler issues concerning future chapters, but I always try to touch base with them. I do read all the feedback I get and try to take great care with my reader's comments. Love you all, I promise! :)


	31. Chapter 31

_Blaise felt her warm breath tickle his chin and swallowed insecurely and hoarsely said, "I don't think-"_

"_Me neither," she interjected placed her lips on his._

"Hmmph," he said into her mouth and moved his arms away from her form with his fingers spread out, not wanting to touch her. Well, he wouldn't say he loathed the idea of touching her. He just…Bloody hell, he hadn't even really thought about it…ever. He wasn't like one of those daft creeps in the Slytherin pit who fantasized about all the different ways of removing the stick from Granger's arse. When he saw her on Friday, he didn't think about touching her then, either. Or kissing her. Or doing anything remotely intimate with her.

"You're a really bad kisser," Hermione mumbled into his mouth and then completely removed her lips from his with a disappointed frown.

Blaise snarled at her and said, "I've never had any complaints."

"You just did." She maneuvered over him, uncaring that she was digging her knees into his legs and hands into his stomach so she could sit adjacently upon him to glower down at him properly.

"You weren't that spectacular either," he replied honestly. "Besides, I didn't even want to kiss you. You just attacked me. I should have listened to you when you said you do foolish things when drunk."

"Yes, you should have, and what do you mean you don't want to kiss me?"

"I'm not going to argue with you. You're not in your right mind, so why don't you go to bed and hope you can't remember this in the morning."

Her glare softened into a sleepy expression, and he could tell she was having trouble focusing on him. A yawn escaped her lips and then she smacked them lips together and grimaced like she was finally determining that butterbeer and vodka was, indeed, revolting. She then slumped to the side, pressing her shoulder into the cushion, her eyes fluttering closed. She whispered, "I didn't want to kiss you either."

"But you did," Blaise said in a perplexed tone.

One of Hermione's eyes slightly opened. "It's not _you_ I want to kiss, no offense. I just thought you would do for the moment." She went to climb off of him but lost her balance and fell to the floor with an 'oomph' and a _thunk_, groaning in pain. Blaise sat up straightly and went to help with an offered hand which she batted away and got on all fours and carefully rose up straightly with her arms out for balance.

"Do you need help?" asked Blaise.

"No," she snorted unattractively and zig-zagged her way towards the hallway and disappeared behind the corner. A few moments later, Blaise heard a door open and then close, indicating that Hermione was done for the night.

He relaxed his neck muscles and let his head fall back against the couch cushion and absentmindedly prodded his lips with his thumb. They were still wet, and curiously, he licked them and got a hint of the vodka and butterbeer.

Yep, it truly was vile.

He took the collar of his shirt and wiped his lips and thought that he had just experienced the worst kiss of his life which was saying something. His first kiss had been nightmarish. Fifteen years old, he had been and was kissing the prettiest girl in school—Daphne. Neither of them knew what they were doing. He had been too proud to ask his fellow vipers for pointers on how to kiss a girl because most of them had already done it and that would have been embarrassing, so he consulted _Play Wizard _for assistance, unknowing of the number one rule concerning first kisses—Keep It Simple, Sod!

Thinking about it, Blaise wondered where Daphne got her information on how first kisses should go. Wherever she had gotten it from, it hadn't been good for either of them. According to Pansy, using tongue was a privilege not a right. If not used properly, the right should be stripped from the kisser(s).

Blaise was relieved Hermione had kept her tongue out of the brief equation, but her lips had been wet and sloppy enough due to her drunken state. In all honesty, though, that was not the entire reason the kiss had been terrible. Plenty of times he had been on the receiving end of awkward snogs. No matter, he simply detached himself from the female and tried again. The reason Blaise was going to hate himself in the morning was due to the present circumstances. When he, Draco, and Theo had been practically lads—at the age of liking girls—an oath was made between them. They had been thirteen and huddled together in the Slytherin Common Room, promising each other that neither of them would pine after each other's current or former bints. He and his friends honored that trust for a whole two years.

Since First Year and up until the Yule Ball, Draco and Pansy had always been labeled "unofficially official." Everyone knew the two would hump each other someday once they figured out how. However, knowing all that did not stop Blaise from stealing a snog from Pansy whilst she was "official" with Draco in Fifth Year. At the time, Blaise technically had been with Daphne. When she found out, she broke things off with him, and Theo found his poor soddin' self in her clutches. Since then, he managed to escape from her talons a few times, but she always found him and him and dragged him back. Two years ago, she coerced him into an engagement. They have yet to marry.

The point was, though, Blaise didn't usually feel all that shameful when gettin' cozy with his mates' women, but he had his limits. If the girl was truly that special to his friend, he kept away. Hermione was that kind of special. She had been Draco's bint, and he wasn't going to mess with that. Not that he wanted to. Regardless of his mate's death and of Hermione's physical attractiveness, Blaise did not imagine her as a potential candidate for companionship.

Done with his musings, Blaise got up from the couch and walked to this room, dimming the lights in his wake.

* * *

The time was nearly eleven, and Pansy needed to return home. She turned her focus from her the clock on the wall and looked at Narcissa, who hadn't made a sound in the last ten minutes. The woman sat rigid in her chair, staring at her barely touched tea, a pronounced scowl adorned on lips.

"I understand this is a bit much to take in, and we can talk more about this tomorrow or anytime, but it's getting late. You probably need time to…absorb."

Pansy stood up from the table to leave, but the older witch stopped her by asking in a hallow voice, "Were you told the gender of the child?"

Pausing before answering, Pansy replied, "I was."

"And?" Narcissa croaked.

The younger witch stepped away from her chair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her robe, smiling painfully. "Are you sure you want to know? It won't do anything but upset you further, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I'd like to know," Narcissa stated flatly, her gaze still fixed on her teacup.

Pansy nodded, her eyes soft. "It was a girl."

The younger woman left, and Narcissa was unaware of how long she sat there alone in the Yellow Tea Room, dwelling upon what was revealed of her son and Miss Granger.

This was horrifyingly tragic. The girl had gotten pregnant again and lost the baby. It had certainly not been a typical miscarriage like Narcissa experienced herself three times before Draco was born. Those times she hadn't even known she was pregnant until the pain and blood, only being two-in-a-half to three months along. Though the physical pain had been agonizing, the emotional loss had been unbearable. Narcissa could not imagine what it would have been like for Hermione to lose a child not terribly far away from birth. To have the belly swell and to feel the movement of kicks and twirls of life inside of her and to know she was having a little girl and then having all that ripped out of her by an absurd mistake.

Narcissa disliked Hermione. Nothing Pansy said made a difference, but the older witch was not heartless nor was she stupid. Miss Granger had been repetitively dealt with malignant cards and forced to play a hopeless game. She saw the worst in people and felt threatened around anyone who could alter her world or impose upon her family. Perhaps the girl was suffering from the past traumas.

The practicality in Narcissa's musings vanished when she no longer wanted to dwell on Hermione but on Draco. Oh, Merlin, he was devastated when finding out about the baby according to Pansy. He had to have been distraught. How had she not noticed?

Narcissa tried to remember her son ever showing an inkling of anger around three years ago and then sighed. Yes, she did. She recalled a memory that happened a few days before the New Year of 2008. Goodness, it happened the day after Pansy's visit to Draco's flat.

_December 28, 2007_

* * *

Narcissa Apparated inside her son's flat and thinned her lips at the shambling mess greeting her. Pieces of broken vases, splintered picture frames, shredded portraits, torn parchment and shards of glass littered the entire floor of the sitting room. Carefully, she walked towards the hallway and saw that the floor down to Draco's room was in the same state.

"Draco," she called to him worriedly. "Is everything alright?"

She heard a faraway sound of glass hitting a hard surface and shattering from behind her. Turning around, she looked at the door of her son's office.

"Draco," she called for him again and instead of hopping over the catastrophe on the floor, waved her wand to clear a path. Gripping the door knob, she turned it and stepped inside the unlit room. Blinking to adjust her vision, she saw her son face down on his desk with an empty glass bottle.

"Leave," he groaned at her, his demand muffled by the wood surface of the desk.

"What on earth, Draco?!" exclaimed Narcissa and pointed her wand at the windows to draw back the blinds and curtains to let some of the outside light shine through. Her boy lifted up his head to glare at her, and she saw that his hair was unwashed and in disarray, his clothes rumpled and his usually handsome face gaunt and watery-eyed.

"Leave," he repeated gruffly.

Appalled by her son's inconsiderate attitude and lack of physical and verbal decency, she balked, "Excuse me? What did you say?"

"You heard me!"

"Draco Malfoy, you will not speak to me in such a manner. I am your mother. Do you need a reminder of that? I still know the _Auris_ _Pugilatu_ Hex very well, and you are not too old for bruised ears, young man! Is that clear?!"

Turning his glare on her, he muttered, "Crystal."

"Now you tell me what the matter is this very instant! You're flat is obscene! Have you no respect for you belongings?!"

Her son snarled at her and she gripped her wand, readying to cast that Ear Boxing Hex. He said gravely, "I had a not so enjoyable time in Brittany, Mum. Francois backed out again. He placed his blasted signature and every bloody line except for the final one. I go over there and," Draco paused and looked away from her like he was ashamed, "he bleedin' tells me that it's over. He's not signing. He's keeping the acreage in the family. _All of a sudden_ his niece wants the land and wants to build an effing house on it. Can you believe that?!"

At a loss for words, Narcissa cocked both eyebrows and gingerly sat down in the seat across from him and said, "That is not something to boohoo over, Draco. Look at this place. You had a tantrum like you were a child, again. So the agreement went sour and Mr. Francois changed his mind? It's not dreadful. The company will not be affected by this at all. The only ones who need to be upset are the ones promised employment in Brittany, but they will find employment other places. We have plantations being built annually." Draco snorted in response and Narcissa cocked her head to the side in inquisitively. "Is this really about Mr. Francois's change of mind, or is this about something else?"

Her son glared down at his desk. "What else could it be about? Everything was going soddin' perfect. I almost had him. I was this close." He pushed his hand towards her so she could see his thumb and forefinger parallel to each other with an inch between them. "This. Close. And everything had to go wrong. Everything! I really wanted…" Her son sucked in a sharp, resolute breath, "that land and everything it could've provided."

"I admit, the land was divine. It would have made a great spot for the natural medicine plantation, but we'll find another one just as good, if not better."

"There is nothing better," her son whispered and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Sweetheart, what is this really about?" she asked knowingly.

"About Francois," he clipped and leaned back in his chair and asked, "Why are you here, Mum?"

Letting the situation go, Narcissa jumped on the subject change, remembering as to why she was visiting. "I wanted to remind you of the annual New Year ball at home."

"Yes, because I would naturally forget that," he drawled in bitter sarcasm and then flinched and hissed while cupping his right ear. "Ow! Sorry, sorry!"

"You better be," she waggled her wand at him warningly. "You will be there, and you will be out of this soiled state of sullenness over a silly unfinished contract. Furthermore, look your best. Like I've been saying for years, it's time you have found a wife. You are twenty-seven years old, and all the respectable witches of good-breeding are being snatched up. Unless you want to marry a Hogwarts or Beauxbaton graduate, I suggest you retire you bachelorism and settle down. You're father agrees. We want grandbabies, darling. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to go over to the Parkinson Estate and hear that woman ramble on and on about her _four_ grandchildren? I don't have _one_."

Unperturbed and eerily stoic, Draco merely stared at her while saying, "All in good time, Mother."

"No, Draco, now. What kind of respectable man of twenty-seven has yet to marry?"

"Blaise isn't married. Nor is Theo."

"They are not respectable. They are jokes, and I will no longer have you philandering and carousing about. You did it when you were young, but you aren't anymore."

"I still have time. I'm not some old codger on the brink of toppling over and cracking my brittle bones. I will not be coerced into the courting world." He stood up and briskly walked out of the office, leaving his mother alone.

* * *

_Present Day_

Narcissa walked the hallways of the manor, ignoring the silent pleas of the portraits. Lucius and she casted a Silencing Charm on all the portraits since the news broke out about Alex. Their yammering of questions was driving her and husband spare.

While quietly slipping into her and Lucius' bedroom, an ache of loss echoed in her body. She could not help but yearn for the granddaughter lost. Narcissa would have liked to have had a little girl running about in the manor in floral pink dresses and shiny Mary Jane shoes that clicked and clacked on the marble flooring. If the little child had lived, she would have been two and still small enough to be considered a baby.

Dwelling on the what-ifs of this depressing circumstance was not going to ease Narcissa's state of feeling cheated from another grandchild, but she had to wonder what the little girl would have looked like. From Blaise's description, Alex was almost identical to Draco. Would the little girl have had similar features? Or would she have had more of her mother's look? Perhaps a mixture of both. That would be lovely. Flowing blonde hair with brown eyes and a pension for trouble.

Sniffling, she climbed in to bed once donned in her nightdress and slid underneath the covers.

"What's the matter, darling? What did Pansy have to say?" her husband asked with a sleep-laced voice.

"I'll tell you later," she said to him. "Let's rest for tomorrow. You're right. Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who put this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: hkmac, Kar-Kar93, Vaneesa85, Noctuas, Angelus Draco, aline290, Anna122, Andykins, Guest, BeWhoYouAre99, Musette Fujiwara, Aya Diefair, ladybug45, and yuki-chan25 for the reviews**.

I got some questions and concerns about some things. Yes, Hermione only had one miscarriage. The argument at Easter was about the miscarriage and jealousy and what not. More details will be told in later chapters, of course.

I also got some questions about how could I hurt Hermione by making her lose a baby. In truth when I started writing this, I almost considered Hermione having two children: Alex and a little girl. I changed my mind and only did Alex and thought about doing a miscarriage. I debated that while writing the first however many chapters until I decided to throw it into the mix because I thought of it to be tragic enough to put a void between Draco and Hermione. I wanted something horrible enough to happen where kisses and touches of our cute Slytherin boy wasn't going to be enough to fix the problem. I'm sick, I know. But I'm okay with that.

Anyway, I hope the chapter was enjoyable. I know it was kind of filler-ish but the good stuff cometh, I promise.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers and those who have favorited this fic.

**Thank you to: alina290, Angelus Draco, Vaneesa85, meg527, hkmac, Aya Diefair, Jessica682, and Musette Fujiwara for the reviews.**

So to clear some things up, Hermione miscarried sometime in late 2007. There will be more details on when later in the story and more details on when precisely Draco found out. The little girl would have been born in 2008, but there will be more information on everything later on, I promise.

Enjoy Chapter 32. Read and Review, please, and tell me your thoughts.

* * *

"They're not coming, are they?" Narcissa practically moaned, her eyes fastened on the wall where the ticking clock dwelt. Wringing her hands nervously and cinching her brow together, her heart sank lower and lower into her stomach at seeing the big hand on the fifteen. "They should have been here fifteen minutes ago? Why aren't they here, Lucius? Oh," she brought a hand to her forehead and hunched over her morning tea, "she's changed her mind. She took him back to Salem. We'll have to wait longer."

"It most certainly would have been a wise decision on her part," her husband said from behind _The Daily Prophet_. Folding up the newspaper and setting it aside next to his tea, he then picked up his pipe and lit, speaking between puffs. "The paparazzi got word that Miss Granger is no longer in the States. I predict they'll be lapping at our wards in a matter of hours, darling. The Owls and the Howlers will increase, I assume."

"Are you not worried in the least?" Narcissa sighed out and picked up her tea to take a sip but lost interest when the cup got half way to her mouth and set it back down on the saucer with a _clink_.

"She'll be here. If she decided to run away, she wouldn't have gotten far. Blaise would catch her in little, if any, time."

"You're right. I'm being anxious. Eight o' clock is quite early, especially for a young boy. Miss Granger probably had difficulties-"

Mippy Apparated into the dining area and bowed, cutting Narcissa off. The woman squealed uncontrollably, "Oh my Gods, they're here!"

"Master and Mistress, Mr. Zabini and-"

"We know, we know!" Narcissa stood up and clapped her hands together before covering her mouth with them, breathing through her nose to calm herself. Last night before falling asleep, her excitement to see Alex had dwindled because of all the things Pansy had said. Upon morning, that anticipation renewed.

Oh, Morgana! She was going to see him!

"Mippy, make sure our guests find themselves comfortable before leading them here. See to it if they have any preferences for breakfast," Lucius told the house-elf sternly. Mippy bowed and Disapparted and Narcissa sat back down in her seat, her heels clicking nervously against the marble beneath her feet.

"Lucius," she said insecurely.

"Calm yourself. When you see the boy, try not to torpedo over and touch him. I doubt Scorpius would appreciate that, and I know his mother would not, as well. Like we agreed this morning, we are going to do our best to keep away the contention. Even if Miss Granger purposefully starts a fight, we will prove to her that we-"

"Are not ill-mannered people. We will counter her vileness with kindness," Narcissa finished and took a deep breath, smiling gently which fell short when hearing footstep coming towards them.

"Here they come," her husband said and both stood up from their chairs and turned around to face the entrance of the dining all.

* * *

The portraits of Malfoy Manor were eerily still and quiet, their eyes watching Hermione and Alex intently as they walked the hallways. The woman felt their questioning stares picking away at her, but she kept her focus on the marble flooring, afraid to look up and recognize something that would bring her back thirteen years ago. Instead, she attempted to place her mind somewhere else far away from the war. Like Alex. He looked so darling in his suit. She had bought it for him at the beginning of school year for his choir performances.

Already holding her boy's hand, she squeezed it lovingly. He looked up at her with watery, red eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

"Oh, love," she whispered to him and let go of his hand to bring him closer to her, his head resting in the curve of her waist for a moment before he stopped walking and raised up his arms, wanting to be held.

"Mama," he whispered, "Please."

Hermione brushed away some strands of his wayward blond curls and then bent down to pick him up. His arms wrapped around her neck tightly as did his legs around her waist. He was not a light-weighted child, but how could she deny him when he wanted to be held? Needed to be held?

Unfortunately, due to holding him, she had to keep her head up and see where Blaise and the house-elf named Mippy were taking them. She prayed they did not have to pass the Drawing Room. A part of her fed lies, telling her she would not recognize the place she was tortured so many years ago, but the dominant part of Hermione knew better.

"You look nice, Granger," Blaise told her, slightly turning his to the side to flick his gaze back at her.

"You're despicable," she called him, a flush warming her cheeks. When waking up that morning with a migraine and a need to vomit, the first thing flooding her mind was remembering that she kissed Blaise after having a few pitiful drinks. Was she truly such a lightweight? Such a slag? Why on earth would she kiss him, drunk or not?

Hermione asked herself these questions but knew the shameful answer. She missed Draco. Missed him dearly. Agonizingly. It was killing her to know he was gone, that she couldn't touch him or kiss him anymore. Yes, she had not intimately touched him or kissed him for over two, almost three years. But there had always been that option. That one selfish option. He would always be around, and she could always change her mind. She hated herself for thinking that way but when hearing of Draco's engagement to Astoria, it had done nothing but make her slightly jealous. Okay, a bloody hell of a lot jealous! Just who did he think he was getting engaged to someone else? Never mind her, though, Hermione knew if she had given Draco the word, he would have broken off everything with that woman. That word being 'yes.' The _answer_ being yes.

_Yes, Draco, we can work something out about us living so far apart. Yes, we can tell your parents. Yes, Draco, I'll marry you. Yes, we can have another baby. Yes, Sweetheart, I hope it's a girl, too._

Her lips ached to kiss Draco's, and her hands burned to touch him. Last night in her drunken haze, she saw Blaise beneath her. He looked nothing like Draco. No amount of alcohol was going to change Blaise's dark skin an alabaster white or his close-shaven black hair into blond locks. But he was there, and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was Draco.

Hermione was ever so grateful that Blaise had been the responsible one and pushed her away. Not many men would have done that but would have taken full advantage of the situation, but that didn't mean she thought any more or less of him. He was still an arrogant bastard and if she had not been the mother of his late best friend's child, Hermione couldn't help but think he wouldn't have pushed her away so quickly. In fact, she thought he may have not pushed her away fast enough. He saw her coming towards him, and all he did was lay down and practically test the waters!

Perhaps she was overreacting. It was just one small, disgustingly icky kiss that would never be repeated, even if she drank an entire swimming pool of vodka and butterbeer. Never would she be sloshed enough to try again.

"All I said was that you looked nice," Blaise said, tearing her out of her internal rant. "I didn't mean anything by it but to simply complement you and compare your present self with this morning's version of you."

"It's a wonder you ever find companionship, Zabini. Words like that make witches run in the other direction."

"It's actually been sometime since I've seen a woman in the morning. I'm always gone by then."

Hermione gaped at him and Alex croaked, "What's he talking about, Mommy?"

"Nothing, Sweetheart," she quickly said and placed a kiss on his forehead and smiled when his arms tightened around her neck. "Nothing at all. Mr. Zabini is a just a vile, little cockroach."

"Like Daddy?"

"Hmm? What?" Hermione questioned in surprise at Alex's words.

"You once told Daddy he was a cockroach."

Hermione nodded and twisted her mouth in a nostalgic half-smile. "I called him that more than once, didn't I?"

"You always called him mean names," he said in a small voice and Hermione's guilt level escalated again. She could not deny that Draco had been on the receiving end of some nasty words from her these past couple of years. If she could take them back…If she could bring Draco back…

"I never meant any of them," she told Alex and brushed her lips against his forehead, a habit picked up from his infant years. Whilst in her arms, it was only natural to kiss her child when his face was so close to her mouth.

"So do you mean it when you call Mr. Zab...Mr. Zabi...*sigh*...Daddy's friend a cockroach?"

"Yeah, Granger," Blaise piped up, "do you mean it when you call me a cockroach?"

"Yes," she hissed and childishly and belatedly, she added, "cockroach."

"Calm yourself or at least save your hostility for the hosts. We're almost there."

* * *

Mippy entered first and then bowed with gesturing arms for those behind her to enter. Narcissa saw Blaise first and was dressed tastefully in a dark suit, and why couldn't he ever wear a tie? Ties were a respectable article of clothing needed to finish off a nice, tailored suit.

The man nodded his greetings and behind him was Hermione, and Narcissa felt like she understood a bit more as to what her late son saw in her. The girl cleaned up nicely. Though she was no beauty queen or even Astoria, she was a lovely girl. Though, Hermione was not dressed to impress her or Lucius. She wore a simple black, knee-length dress, conservatively cut with white lace at the collar and black tights with flat leather boots. The curls Narcissa had seen tightly secured in a braid at that restaurant in Salem were straightened and loosely held together by a single black ribbon tied into a bow at the base of her skull. And then something dawned on her. Miss Granger dressed for mourning and showing her respect, not to her or Lucius, but to Draco.

A nauseating sensation washed over Narcissa. Miss Granger was going to want to see the grave, and the older witch had not been since the funeral, not out of slothfulness, but out of anguish. The pain was still fresh and prominent and…

Her breath caught in her throat at seeing the little person clinging to Miss Granger's torso. Oh Morgana's soul! He was perfect with his blond hair and grey eyes. The boy looked just like Draco.

Unable to help herself, she started towards them but stopped half way when remembering what she had promised Lucius moments before, so she smiled at them warmly.

"Hello," she said, unknowing at what else to say.

Hermione visibly tightened her arms around Alex when seeing Narcissa rushing towards him with a mad, determined glint in her eye and regretted agreeing to meet the woman and her monster of a husband inside their house of horrors. Thank Godric the woman stopped, though and seemed to pull herself together, but Hermione still kept her arms snug around her son.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise greeted with another nod and then turned to Hermione, giving her a pointed look.

Pressing her lips together and gritting her teeth, Hermione smiled forcedly at Narcissa and said, "Mrs. Malfoy."

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said coolly.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said from the table, and everyone aside from Alex noticed Hermione's left eyelid twitch before she turned to face him.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Ignoring the tension, Narcissa relaxed her shoulders and set her sights upon Alex again, smiling happily at him. "And you must be Alexander."

He said nothing at her, but merely stared at her wide-eyed and blankly.

Narcissa's smile widened in an attempt to ease her grandson. "I'm your grandmother and so happy to finally meet you. Your grandfather," she gestured to Lucius who saluted the boy with his smoking pipe and a curt nod, "is over there at the table."

"Hello," the man said and Hermione refrained from tossing a hate-filled glare at him. How dare that bastard sit expectantly at the table like he knew all along that she would be there standing in the dining room with Alex? Like he knew she would cave and agree bringing her son to this wretched house.

"You all must be hungry. Come sit at the table while we wait for breakfast," said Narcissa breathily, like she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Hermione stood rigid until Blaise nudged at her arm, silently telling her to suffer through this and sit down.

"Are you hungry, Sweetheart?" she asked her boy who tilted his head back to look at her. He nodded somberly, so she stared cautiously at the table where Blaise and Draco's parents were seated before walking to the table.

The dining table was a long, traditionally styled piece of glossily furnished oak with an elegant satin table-cloth, the color of ivory, draped over it. As Hermione came closer to the two empty wooden chairs with overstuffed seat cushions, she asked Alex, "Would you like to sit in the chair?"

He shook his head and began to climb her, securing his body fittingly around hers. Ignoring the three pairs of eyes staring at them, she replied stiffly, "Alright," and awkwardly pulled out one of the chairs and sat down with him in her lap. When catching the disproving frown from Lucius, Alex's knee in her belly no longer seemed all that uncomfortable. She even pressed her lips against his cheek and audibly smooched him, being sure to apply enough pressure to squish his face. When she was done, he rewarded her with a face-squishing kiss of his own on her cheek which delighted her and eased more of that ache inside her chest.

Alex rested his head underneath her chin as his mother held him closely. From where he sat, he could see the woman who introduced herself and his grandmother. She sat at the end of the table staring at him intently with sad, teary eyes. She was very pretty lady with blonde hair like his daddy's and didn't look like any grandma he'd ever seen or met. All the grandmas he knew were his friends' grandmas or the old ladies who took little kids to the park after school. Those grandmas were plump and had wrinkles and wore robes made of soft fuzzy material. They wore glasses, and their curly grey hair was trimmed short.

Sometimes Nathaniel would invite Alex over to his grandma's house on the other side of town. Grandma Li was an elderly lady who was only a head taller than himself. Her hair was white, and she wore soft white fuzzy robes which she always covered with bright blue kimonos. She was really nice, at least Alex thought so. Grandma Li couldn't speak English but only Canta…um…Canta…some funny language, so the boy was never sure what the old woman said.

Daddy's mama was tall, thin, pretty, and did not have wrinkles. Her hair did not have a strand of grey and was long and shiny and straight, and most importantly, she did not offer cookies. If she was really a grandma, where were the cookies?

Snuggling deeper into his mother's embrace, he thought it was sort of promising for his…grandma…to offer breakfast. It wasn't cookies and milk, but it would do.

"So, Alex," the lady said with trembling smile, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I hear you're going to Salem Institute for Magical Developing Children. Do you like it there?"

That was a silly question, Alex thought and blinked owlishly at her. Who on earth would like going to school? He remembered asking Daddy the same question, and he had laughed loudly and told him that his mother had loved school and learning and reading loads of books. He understood the 'reading loads' part, but his mom was too cool to like classrooms and mean teachers.

"No," he mumbled in response and saw her eyebrows reaching up towards her hairline.

"Really? I thought it was a good school."

Why did grownups always put the words 'good' and 'school' in the same sentence?

"It is," his mom said firmly and rubbed his back comfortingly. "But Alex is like any other eight year old and doesn't enjoy sitting at a desk for the majority of the day."

"Oh, I see." Narcissa nodded, recalling complaints from Draco's tutors about how her eight year old was refusing to sit still and learn about potions and arithmancy.

"_I just want to play, Mummy,"_ Draco had said and grabbed at the skirt of her robe and peered up at her pleadingly. _"May I please go outside and play? Please, please, please!"_

"So what do you like to do?" she asked and didn't miss the annoyed eye-roll of Hermione.

"Play and eat cake."

A soft laugh sprung up from everyone at the table, even Lucius who wanted Alex to turn his head and look at him. The boy was so very much like Draco, in looks and in personality. Draco, too, had been quite attached to his mother. Smiling at the memory, Lucius remembered when the boy had stuck himself to his mother's robe and sobbed uncontrollably when she unstuck him. And Narcissa, oh that woman could never say no to the boy.

"_Mummy, Daddy, I had a bad dream,"_ his son had whimpered at the foot of his and Narcissa's bed. _"Can I sleep with you?"_

"_Absolutely n-"_

"_Yes, Darling. Come to Mummy, Dear, and I'll kiss all the bad dreams away," _his wife had interjected in a sugary sweet tone and had held out her arms as the boy jumped up on the bed and crawled towards her, settling between them. When the boy had fallen asleep, he let Narcissa know of his disproval.

"_We were supposed to make love," _he had quietly hissed at her.

Lucius tore himself out of his past musings when Alex turned his head away from his wife's direction and then stared at him as if waiting for him to ask his series of questions.

"So…ahem…Alexander," Lucius began, thinking that maybe Blaise and Narcissa were correct by addressing the boy by his middle name. "Do you like to fly?"

"Fly?" the boy squeaked.

"No, he doesn't," Hermione said sternly and shared a brief look with her son before he returned his gaze to Lucius.

"Mom says I'm not allowed to fly until I get my wand. My…dad bought me a broom last Christmas, but I wasn't allowed to fly it. Even with him on the broom. So he bought me a toy broom for Easter." Alex sighed and pouted up at his mother who kissed his forehead. "I wasn't allowed to fly that either."

"It's too dangerous," his mother stated crisply. "You could fall off and hurt yourself, and that would make Mummy very sad."

"That's ridiculous," Blaise and Lucius said in unison and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the younger and then swiveled them and pinned them loathingly at the older.

"That's what Daddy said!" exclaimed Alex and wiggled on his mother's lap so he could sit up straightly. "He said that, too! Did you let him fly when he was eight?"

To be continued…


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who put this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: alina290, Guest, Angelus Draco, faraharif, hkmac, Aya Diefair, Anjali Katari, meg527, callalily32, Guest, Muesette Fujiwara, Vaneesa85, Kou Shun'u, LiiLah, mbclose, Jessica682, and Linda for the reviews. Thank you so much for them! A lot of good things were said, and I'm so grateful to have such nice things said about my work! :)**

**I hope the chapter is enjoyable, and I will try to update the next chapter as soon as I can. Thank you for your patience. Read and Review and enjoy!**

* * *

"_That's what Daddy said!" exclaimed Alex and wiggled on his mother's lap so he could sit up straightly. "He said that, too! Did you let him fly when he was eight?"_

"Settle down, sweetheart," Hermione whispered into her son's ear, the boy flushing in embarrassment and nodded shyly, lowering his chin in reprimand.

"Sorry, Mommy," he replied quietly and repeated his question, this time quieter, to the man he was supposed to call grandpa or something. "Did you let him fly when he was eight?"

"As a matter of fact, Draco started flying lessons when he turned six," Lucius clipped haughtily and sent Hermione a challenging glance. "I think eight is an appropriate, if not belated age to start flying lessons."

"_I_ don't," Hermione said firmly. "There's nothing really to gain by flying anymore. It's become more of a hobby. Floo networks, Portkeys, and Apparation are the main transportation methods used in all magical parts of the world. Walking isn't a terrible method either."

"No, but certainly primitive."

Blaise made an ahem sound to place the attention on him, sensing contention brewing close to a simmer. Maintaining peace, he asked Alex, "Do you like Quidditch? Your father played Seeker during his time at Hogwarts."

"Mom said he wasn't a very good one."

Closing her eyes, it was Hermione's turn to flush in embarrassment and heard Lucius say wryly, "Is that so?"

"Yep."

A muffled chortling sound could be heard across from her, and Hermione opened her eyes to see Blaise gurgling into his glass of water. She then looked over to Narcissa, who stared adoringly at Alex and then switched it to a heated glare, trapping it on the younger witch.

"Oh, but he was good," Narcissa stated through clenched teeth. "Very much so."

"Is that true, Mommy?" Alex asked, tilting his head back and looking up at his mother from an upside down angle.

Hermione forced a smile and lightly said, "He was better than some, I suppose, but Mummy rarely saw him play Quidditch."

"But he was a great flyer," Blaise informed. "His Quidditch skills improved with time, but his flying technique was impressive. Perhaps when your mum thinks you're old enough, we can see if that talent was passed down. Maybe when you're older you'll be a Seeker in a Quidditch team like your dad."

"Do you like to watch Quidditch?" Lucius asked.

Alex shrugged his little shoulders and leaned forward to grab his glass goblet of pumpkin juice, taking a sip before answering, "It's okay. When the Boston Black Ani-Ani-An-i-ses were playing against the Hono-Hono-Hon-o-lu-lu Hags back home last summer, I got to go on a field-trip with my school. I think I like baseball better. I got to do Little League for the last time this summer because Mom took me out when I started making homeruns every time it was my up. Nathaniel had to be taken out, too, when he'd run to second base and somehow end up back at first."

Hermione smiled at the perplexed stares Alex received and explained, "Baseball is a popular Muggle sport, especially in the States."

"But Alexander is not a Muggle," Lucius slowly said as if Hermione was unaware of such a detail.

"Thank you for clarifying that. I was beginning to worry, Mr. Malfoy."

"What Lucius meant was that-"

Hermione cut Narcissa off by tartly saying, "I know what he meant." She then looked at Lucius. "I feel it's important to not deprive my child of his non-magical heritage. I grew up in both worlds, and I feel my son has a right to, as well."

"Ah, yes." The man nodded, his eye slitting in calculation. "You're parents are Muggles, so I assume both of you take that trip often. Where are they living these days? I'm assuming they no longer live in Surrey."

Over the haze of shock from Lucius' words, Hermione vaguely heard Blaise make a coughing sound and a sharp intake of breath from Narcissa. The young woman widened her eyes in alarm, sharply asking, "And how is it you know they lived there?"

Lucius opened and then closed his mouth tightly, his lips pressing firmly together. Nervousness rolled off of him in waves because he most certainly should not know where she and her parents once lived. Instinctively, her arms tensed around Alex as she swept her gaze from Blaise to Narcissa. Blaise had taken a sudden interest in his half-empty glass of water, and Narcissa partially covered her face with her hand as if she was waiting for a disaster to happen and couldn't bear to watch.

Hermione used the silence to answer her own question as to why Draco's father had known where her parents had lived, and after a few moments, the realization felt like a punch between the eyes. During the war, Muggle-Borns were hunted down like animals by Death Eaters under the command of Voldemort. Often, the Death Eaters were assigned to search for them in Muggle England and kill them, and Lucius just confirmed that she had been sought after. Someone, possibly even he, had gone to her childhood home with the intention of killing her and her parents.

Contorting her brow from that horrifying revelation, the reality of where she was and with who sunk into her bones and rattled them, telling her she was in enemy territory and needed to leave, protect her child from the evil surrounding her.

"Oh my Gods," she rasped out and slowly stood up from her chair, holding Alex around his middle.

"Mommy?" he questioned with a frown, not liking the interlocked hands digging into his belly.

"We need to leave. We're going home right now," she said stiffly.

"Now?"

"Miss Granger, please!" pleaded Narcissa, shooting up from her seat and dashing over to the younger woman. "It was a long time ago-"

"No it wasn't," Hermione seethed as fear, anger, and deep sorrow permeated her entire body, feeling as though she would burst any second. Humiliatingly, her faced heated and tears stung her vision, so she put Alex down and moved in front of him. He didn't need to see what she was about to do. Pulling on the hem of her left sleeve, she let Narcissa see her wrath and repeated, "No it wasn't," and then quickly covered it back up.

"Mommy," Alex mumbled, his forehead pressing into her back. "I don't like when people see that. They look at you funny."

Quietly sighing in exasperation, Hermione closed her eyes briefly before tossing a glare at a pale Narcissa, guilt marring the corner's of her mouth and sagging her shoulders.

"Miss Granger," the woman helplessly tried, arms out in offering of her surrender.

"We're leaving." Hermione gripped Alex's hand and started towards the door they entered the dining room through.

"What's going on? Why are you mad?" her boy asked.

"Granger, don't go," Blaise called after her, but she ignored him and marched out into the hallway, whipping her head from left to right, attempting to remember where the entrance was located. Although it would be more ideal if she could find a Floo.

"We have to hurry, honey," she said to Alex, picking up her pace and he did the same with a confused frown.

As they passed portraits who were shouting silently at her, Hermione knew she would have to turn right up ahead where there would be the Reception Hall she saw only minutes before.

Hearing heavy footfalls of a man behind her, Hermione glanced back at Blaise and then began walking faster.

"Should I run?" she heard Alex ask uncertainly.

"Uh…" Hermione looked back again and saw the wizard getting closer. "Maybe."

She rounded the corner and faced forward to search for a fireplace but ran her nose and forehead into a hard but slightly relenting barrier, for the surface had somewhat retracted. Her sudden halt caused Alex to collide with her bum, and she tilted her head up and snapped her eyelids shut when a puff of nicotine smelling smoke shot towards them. Breathing in, she slit her eyes open and scrunched up her face to glower at the person who blocked her and her boy from freedom and then did a double-take when seeing who it was.

"You," she said to him and then remembered Blaise was right behind her and finished icily, "get out of my way."

Not bothering to wait for his response, she stepped to the left to go around him but he mirrored her actions, his lips taut around his cigarette and hands stuffed casually inside his trouser pockets.

"Please move," she said to him edgily.

"Don't let her get around you, Theo!" she heard Blaise belt from around the corner. She craned her neck to see him fly around the corner and stop abruptly to keep himself from crashing into Alex. He braced his hand against the wall to keep from toppling over.

"I can't let you get around. Sorry," Theo said, not sounding apologetic in the least but rather withdrawn and unassuming. "Blaise figured you run, thus, why I'm here standing in the middle of a hallway infecting my dead mate's dead relatives with second-hand smoke."

"Okay, Creeper," Hermione said with a muddled expressed, slightly shaking her head. Gods, Theodore had not changed at _all_! "But I'd rather not force you to get out of my way."

"Smoke?" he asked, presenting a tin case and popping it open one-handedly, revealing emptiness.

"There's nothing in there," she informed blankly with ascending eyebrows.

Theo blinked at her and turned the tin case so he could see into it and then plucked the shortened, burning fag from his lips and dropped it to the marble flooring carelessly. "Must've been the last one. Pity."

Out of the corner of Hermione's eye, a portrait mutedly chastised Theo for his lack of consideration to the Malfoy property.

"Who are you?" Alex piped up, popping his head out from the side of his mother's hip.

Theo merely lowered his focus instead of tilting his chin downward, the corners of his mouth twitching, but no reply was said.

"This is Theodore Nott," Blaise introduced gently. "He was a good friend of your dad's."

"Yes, say hello and goodbye," Hermione said to Alex while sending a little wandless magic Theo's way, hiding her smile of triumph when he turned to face the wall and pressed his forehead against it.

"That was unexpected," Theo dryly retorted, pressing his palms flat against the wall and struggling to detach himself from the wall.

"Granger," growled Blaise but Hermione ignored him as gripped Alex's hand more firmly and broke out into a light jog, not worried in the least the man could catch up to her. Without breaking a sweat, she incapacitated a fully grown wizard without a wand already. All she had to do was send a wandless signal to Blaise's shoelaces and he'd stumbled to the floor and for good measure, she'd ensure however he landed was where he would dwell long enough for her get back to the UPA.

"Hermione," he called out for her again.

"Don't follow me, Zabini. I mean it. This whole debacle is over. I can't even believe I agreed to this. What kind of parent am I to allow my son into this place with _those_ people? I don't care if Alex is going to inherit the Malfoy company someday. Everything he needs to learn, he can do so from Salem without Draco's horrible parents"

"Give them a chance," he said, trying to walk alongside her.

"I did. Just now and look what happened. I got an indirect confession on..." Hermione stopped her mouth for the benefit of Alex. He didn't need to know that people wanted to kill her years ago. He'd be greatly troubled if discovering 'that people' were his grandparents.

"Don't act so surprised about any of it, Granger. Your people-"

"My people?" scoffed Hermione and came to the Reception Hall, darting her eyes about in search of a Floo. Heart racing in relief, she found one below a large clock, the fireplace probably being an entrance and exit for guests for parties and social events.

"That's not what I meant," said Blaise between clenched teeth and followed Hermione and Alex to the Floo. Picking up his pace, he ran ahead of Hermione and twirled so his back was facing the fireplace, blocking her from leaving.

"Get out of my way," she told him fiercely.

Green flames ignited and exploded behind Blaise and he jolted at uncomfortable sensation and craned his neck around with an inquiring scowl.

"No, get out of _my_ way, you blithering dolt!" screeched a feminine voice followed by a little girl's giggle.

"Pansy?" spat Blaise and then sent Hermione and Alex an anxious glance, mouthing 'shite' and stepped out of the way.

Hermione looked from side to side, in search for exit strategies but quickly coming to the conclusion how unnecessary that was. Pansy, as well as everyone within in reach of a newspaper, was aware of Alex. What use was it to hide from her?

She watched the witch emerge from the fireplace with a little girl's fingers interlocking with her own. The woman's black hair was gathered and pinned at the base of her skull with expensive looking accessories keeping the tresses in place. Her eyes narrowed and her entire body screamed 'defense', her chin sticking out defiantly, and Hermione saw a retort ready for anyone who dared to question her abrupt visit to the Malfoys'.

Hermione's focus shifted down from the woman's face and to Pansy's rounded stomach unfairly evident underneath lush blue and silver robes and frowned, a pang of jealousy hitting in the chest. A feeling that was short-lived when seeing a young child pop her head from behind the woman's form. The child was unmistakably a girl with calculating blue eyes, not unlike Pansy's, and ginger hair held back into two buns right above her ears with black ribbons tied into bows around them. Light peach freckles dotted the bridge of her slightly-upturned nose causing Hermione to surmise that the child was unmistakably born from a Weasley and a Parkinson.

"Mummy, what are we doing here? You told Daddy we were going shopping in Diagon Alley. _This _is not Diagon Alley. _This_ is Malfoy Manor _not_ Diagon Alley. You said you were going to get me new shoes. Where are my new shoes? I want my new shoes, Mummy. The ones that I saw in the Twilfit and Tatting's catalogue. You know the white ones with the melting frozen lollies that melt so much, it turns the shoes a whole bunch of colors in minutes. I want _those_ ones, Mummy, and I _don't_ want to wait for Christmas."

"Okay, okay, Rose," Pansy whispered down lovingly to her daughter who pouted and crossed her arms, stomping her foot. "We'll go later, sweetheart, but right now-"

"Right now we can go get those shoes. You said we were," she said, her voice raising several octaves. Rolling her eyes, she marched over to Blaise, tilted her head back to look up at him, and stuck out her bottom lip as far as she could. "Uncle Blaisey, I want those shoes _now_."

Ignoring the little girl's well-practiced trembling chin, Blaise said to Pansy, "Why are you here, and why did you bring your…little princess?"

"Ah." Pansy nodded and then placed her eyes on to a grim-looking Hermione and then to the small boy behind her. Scorpius Alexander was what Draco had called him, and great Morgana, the child was a near-replicate of his father aside from his mother's curls. The dark haired witch caught the boy's stare and smiled delicately. He smiled insecurely back at her and then stuck his grey orbs on her daughter with evident fascination.

"Narcissa gave me an emergency Floo call two minutes ago, yammering about how she needed my help immediately," Pansy said.

"Narcissa called you?" inquired Blaise.

"How dare she call you?" barked Hermione and stalked forward towards the other witch. "And how dare you show up like you have a right to be here? This doesn't concern you, Parkinson, so go home."

Smirking, Pansy shrugged and opened her mouth to reply when her daughter's voice made one for her.

"Don't yell at my mummy, you cad!" bellowed Rose and slipped between her mother and Hermione, glowering angrily up at the woman.

A bit shocked by being called a cad from a little girl, Hermione stared slacked mouth down at her while Alex let go of her hand wedged himself between her and Rose.

"Don't call my mom a cad! My mom is super cool and doesn't look like a puppy like yours does!"

"Alex," Hermione hissed and despite Pansy's unwanted presence, she sent her an apologetic look. The woman actually appeared to be somewhat amused.

Rose gasped and then set her mouth into a snarl and took a step forward so hers and Alex's nose were almost touching. "Well, you talk funny! My daddy calls people like you Yanks!"

"You don't even know what that means!"

"Do, too!"

"Do not!"

"Do, too!"

"Do not!"

"Do, too!"

"What does it mean then?!"

Rose opened her mouth but nothing came out. Eventually, she sputtered, "You have girl hair!"

"Do not!" Alex touched his hair with a frown and looked up at his mother for verification that his hair did not resemble a girl's.

"Your hair is perfect, sweetheart. Mrs. Weasley's daughter is not being nice, is she?" Hermione gave a pointed glance at Rose whose eyes widened in mortification, an adult having never pointed out her behavior before. Face crumpling, she bolted and hid behind her mother, burying her weeps into her mother's robe.

"Excuse me," Pansy balked, "that's my-"

"Brat," Hermione finished and cupped Alex's shoulder and rubbed them comfortingly. "Like her mother."

Pansy breathed out through her nostrils and clenched her teeth together, digging her nails into her palms. "Let's be adults, Granger. We don't like each other. You think I'm a brat. I think you're…a very nasty word, but we have one thing in common and that's Draco. We both cared about him, so for the sake of him, I'm going to ask you to relax and please let Alex get to know his grandparents. If he doesn't like them, then he doesn't like them and there is nothing to worry about, but let him make the decision."

"He's eight, Pansy," snapped Hermione. "A decision like that is too big for him."

Pansy knelt down, resting her hands above her knees and asked Alex, "Do you want to get to know your Daddy's parents?"

Alex blinked at her and then leaned his head back to stare up at his mother and bobbed his head up and down.

To be continued…


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** A big thanks to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: Vaneesa85, hkmac, Anjali Katari, Angelus Draco, Aya Diefair, callalily32, Jenny, alina290, Greathe, Pink Slytherin, Berry xD, Analelle, Musette Fujiwara, GetTraught, Feline, Jessica682, and loves2readalways** for the review.

I got a lot of comments concerning Hermione and the Malfoys. Some reviewers were on the Malfoys' side and some were on Hermione's side. I know it may seem that Hermione is being selfish or that the Malfoys are being forceful. I'm trying to get both of their sides along with weaseling in Alex's opinion, as well, little by little.

In my opinion, I do think that Hermione treated Draco poorly, but the story is not black and white and will have in-depth details on those matters later. However, please do not mistake her parenting choices for selfishness. She's not giving the Malfoys a hard time to be mean. She really believes they are dangerous people regardless of their semi-polite behavior. I'm trying to make this story as real as possible. Never mind how cute Draco is. He was a nasty brat in the books and his parents were not much better. I love fanfiction, especially Dramione. I write and read religiously, but I try not to buy into the delusions I often come across in stories that the Malfoys are actually lovely people and would be tolerant if their son showed up to the manor with Hermione hanging from his arm. Yes, I'm sure the war knocked them down a peg or two, but the Pureblood Astoria Greengrass would have been a more _suitable_ candidate for birthing the Malfoy heir according to Lucius and Narcissa.

Anyway, I've said my thoughts. I hope the chapter is enjoyable. It's a flashback because I thought a break from the present was greatly needed. Have fun reading! Read and review, please.

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_Christmas Night 2003_

"Thank you for inviting me over for Christmas dinner, Mr. Thane. Your parents are lovely people. I hope Alex wasn't too much trouble," Hermione said to the handsome young man two years her junior, but he didn't seem to mind her presence. He accompanied her to the door, following close behind and stripping the coatrack of her cloak before her hand could even brush the material.

"Let me get that for you." He assisted her with the cloak and said, "Mom is besotted by Alex. He wasn't any trouble at all. Even got my old grump of a dad to crack a few smiles."

"It didn't bother you at all when he spilled the eggnog pitcher or flipped over the roll dish?" Hermione asked timidly and Mr. Thane chuckled.

"Not in the least," Mrs. Thane voice drifted from around the corner, making her presence known. She appeared while gently bouncing Alex in her arms and making delighted faces at him, her eyes and mouth opening wide comically. "You can bring him by anytime. I bet you don't get a lot of free time with this busybody scouting for trouble. You ever need a sitter, Miss Granger, just let me and Pete know. All our grandkids are back in Georgia, and we don't get to see them all that often since we just don't feel comfortable flying anymore like we did a few years ago. Driving's not bad but takes a bit of time."

"I understand," said Hermione and nodded sympathetically. Joshua Thane's parents were Muggles and didn't have the conveniences of Portkeys and Flooing to a faraway destination. Margaret and Pete Thane were true American Muggles, completed with a resilient flag pole in the front yard proudly baring the spangled banner. On the walls were photographs of the Thane family, many of them old and of mostly men dressed in military uniforms standing tall and unmoving. There was a recent photograph of a fetching young man about nineteen. It was a profile shot taken in front of an American flag and Hermione asked, nudging her head at the framed picture while taking Alex from Mrs. Thane, "How's Kirk?"

Mrs. Thane sighed and smile, her eyes growing soft and misty and her son answered, "He got shipped out last week. Didn't I tell you?'

"No, but that's alright. It's not really my business, but may I ask if he's doing well?"

Joshua nodded and replied, "Yeah, I think so. Tries to call often and give us peace of mind."

"Oh, that's good," Hermione said quietly, unsure as of what else to say and rubbed Alex's back, thinking how difficult it must be for Mrs. Thane. Having one's child fighting a war had to be harrowing. For Hermione, she had been the child, but her parents never knew. They never had to lay awake at night and worry she may not come home.

The Wizarding War had been brutal, unfair, and deathly like all wars. Hermione had reoccuring nightmares of the castle falling apart or her old friends and schoolmates dying. She'd relive it again, though. Having battled in the war meant a better future for Alex, and she would move the Earth on its axis and realign the stars if it meant keeping her baby safe.

Alex smiled at her around his new pacifier he got for a present that morning. He leaned his little body closer to his mother, snuggling against her and resting his head on her shoulder.

"He's an angel, Miss Granger. I mean it now. Anytime he needs a watchin', swing him by here."

"Umm…okay," Hermione said and kissed Alex's curly head. Smiling into his wild wisps of blond hair, she wondered if it was too early for a haircut.

"You can go out, meet a friend," the woman unabashedly hinted, tossing her son a pointed look which did not go amiss from him or Hermione. Joshua coughed uncomfortably, blushed, and took his own cloak from the coatrack.

"Think I'll walk Hermione home. Make sure she gets back to her apartment safely. News says a blizzard's coming soon," he said.

"Be safe and don't feel like you have to come back home if the snow's coming down too hard," his mother said to him and winked at the both of them and then petted the back of Alex's head wistfully. "Now let me tend to Daddy. Think he's fallen asleep at the table and oh…Hermione, let me send you off with some leftovers. We got turkey and potatoes pouring from our ears. I'll box up some pie for you, too. Saw that you took a liking to that pecan."

Flushing, Hermione inwardly sighed at remembering the three slices she scarfed of Mrs. Thane's pecan pie, but gracious, what kind of sadist put chocolate and cream cheese inside a perfectly innocent pecan pie?

"I'm not sure that's-" Hermione tried to say.

"Nonsense. Pete's perfectly fine with the pumpkin, and I think I'll start early on my New Year's Resolution. Speaking of, you got any?"

Not actually having thought about it, Hermione shrugged. "Not really. Perhaps saving up money. I'd like to go back to school."

"Smart, smart. Good idea. Now, I'll just get that food. Hang on a bit."

* * *

Trekking through the snow towards the Magical to Muggle shop, Hermione carried her bundled baby close to her body to preserve warmth. She had cast a Warming Charm around him, and he had his tiny little beanie cap on and puffy coat and those darling little snow boots she couldn't help but purchase when seeing them at Magical Babies' Emporium a few weeks prior. Regardless, she would not allow Alex to be cold in the slightest.

She watched for signs of discomfort due to the frigid air, but his head rested placidly on her shoulder, pacifier snug and bobbing in place, knackered grey eyes hooded from his tummy being stuffed from mashed potatoes and whipped cream he scraped clean off a slice of chocolate pie. When he realized the chocolate part tasted good, he ate that, too.

The chilly air no longer bothered her as warmth flooded her heart and womb—the same sensation she felt when she first held him in her arms over a year ago and hoped that feeling would never as he'd grow older. Having talked with other mothers at cosmetic parties, some of them had told her that though the love for their children intensified over the years, the fresh and primal gooey feeling short-circuited often. Other mothers had said they still feel the same overwhelming emotion of love when seeing their fifteen year old sons belch loudly and inappropriately at the dinner table.

"Did you have a good Christmas dinner," Hermione cooed at Alex and brushed a kiss on his plump cheek, grinning into his skin. It smelled of baby vomit, ironically from the whipped cream, and she didn't care. Casting a glance at Joshua who was walking beside her, catching his stare, she said, "Thank you for walking me home and carrying the leftovers, Mr. Thane."

"Not a problem, Miss Granger," he said and smiled dashingly at her. A flutter of excitement stirred in her belly, but she ignored it. True, if she had been a few years younger, still wild and silly and without a child, she wouldn't leave him at the doorstep like she knew she'd have to do when they arrived to her apartment. She'd invite him in, offer him hot cider spiked with vodka, and he wouldn't leave until the following morning.

But Hermione was not a twenty-one anymore, nor was she wild. She still was kind of silly, but it was necessary. Silliness came with motherhood, not sexiness. Though that was arguable, it was difficult trying to feel sexy when carrying an overstuffed diaper bag with pee down the front of her shirt. However, Draco did have the talent in making her feel confident about herself. Thus, the biggest reason as to why Mr. Thane would be returning to his parents' home at a decent hour. Due to their agreement they made at Easter, she and Draco were both off limits to everyone besides each other.

They entered the Muggle to Magic shop through the front door. The Charmed glass sensing the three's magic and letting them pass through and enter the closed establishment. Exiting through the back door, they started on the snowy path towards Hermione's apartment and within ten minutes, Thane escorted her into the lobby and towards the elevator. Arriving to her floor, the liftman parted the gate and let them off on the fifth floor.

"You live in a nice area, Miss Granger," Mr. Thane commented, his eyes sweeping across the hall with the marble flooring and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. "Perhaps I should dabble in the cosmetic business, as well."

Slowing her pace when seeing number fifty-six, she replied with a chuckle, "Thank you but if Alex's father wasn't a supportive being, there would be no way I could afford to live here. Doesn't matter a tube of Everlasting Mascara costs sixteen plinkets and sell like they're going out of style."

"Sixteen plinkets!?" he exclaimed and shook his head ruefully. "Women are crazy. I could buy a week's worth of groceries for me _and_ my roommates for sixteen plinkets."

"Where do you think my commission goes towards? Food, savings, important things," Hermione informed and then smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you for walking me home and thank you again for inviting me over for Christmas dinner."

"Thank you for accepting. I thought you would say no. I mean…you did…at first. And then the second time but the third time…"

"I caved," Hermione finished and readjusted Alex on her hip. "Well, thank you again. I'll probably see you in the library in a couple of days. You know how Alex loves story time in the Tot's Section."

"Right," Joshua said and nodded curtly as Hermione slipped her key into the slot only to discover that the door was already unlocked. Frowning, she pocketed her key and twisted the knob and poked her head inside her apartment.

"Something wrong," he asked and Hermione saw Draco's cloak draped on the coatrack and the lights were on.

"No," she said and opened the door further. "Alex's father is here." There was an unmistakable flicker of jealousy that twitched Mr. Thane's face, but she pointedly disregarded it and gingerly informed, "I guess he's visiting for Christmas after all. I thought he wasn't going to show. He said in his last letter that he couldn't and was sorry and…doesn't matter. Come in, come in."

Mr. Thane followed Hermione into her apartment, the girl knowing it was not the wisest idea to invite him in while Draco was home, but Alex was still in her arms and Mr. Thane had the leftovers.

"You can place those plates and boxes on the counter," she said to him and swallowed nervously when hearing footsteps coming down the hallway. Placing a gleeful smile on her face, she faced the hallway to see Draco marching down the hallway with a scowl pinching his lips.

"Granger," he said lowly, his eyes travelling her form before placing them on Mr. Thane, his scowl deepening in a snarl.

"Malfoy," she said to him and nudged her head in Mr. Thane's direction who shifted anxiously on his feet. "This is Mr. Thane. He was so kind and invited Alex and me over to his parents' house for Christmas dinner. He's a student and works at the library. I think I've mentioned him before."

"You have," Draco gravelly said through clenched teeth, his jaw ticking in jealousy.

"Mr. Thane." She turned to him and saw him inching towards the door. "This is Alex's father."

Joshua nodded at the other wizard uncomfortably and said, "It's nice meeting you, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger talks about you often."

Hermione saw Draco's posture relax slightly at Mr. Thane's words; nevertheless, he snaked a hand behind her back, rubbing her spine for a brief moment before encircling her form and pulling her and Alex closer to him.

"Does she?" he said in mild intrigue, his brow quirking and lips twitching.

Mr. Thane nodded and waved his hand. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger, I hope to see you again soon. Merry Christmas."

"Thank you," said Hermione and turned Alex so he could see Mr. Thane leave. Taking his small mitten-covered hand she waved goodbye at Mr. Thane. "Wave goodbye, Button."

The moment Mr. Thane closed the door behind him Hermione saw from the corner of her eye Draco opening his mouth wide to say something undoubtedly charming and sweet. Hurriedly, she placed Alex in his arms and picked up the load Mr. Thane left on the counter.

"Think I won't yell at you because I'm holding Scorpius, do you?" Draco roughly inquired and brought the baby's face closer to his as if to inspect him. The child was passive and continued to suck on his binky earnestly, the slight bobbing guard bumping the man's nose. He visibly deflated, a small endeared smile on his lips and tucked his son's small body in the crook of his arm.

"Fire away," Hermione sassily challenged but softened at the scene and closed the fridge, trinkets from the Christmas feast tucked away inside. She walked up to him and stood on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on his mouth and said, "Mr. Thane is a very nice man. You said in your last letter you weren't going to be able to come for Christmas because you had that business trip in Kyoto. When he invited me and Alex over for Christmas dinner, I thought it was a very polite thing to do, and I didn't want Alex and I cooped up in the apartment all day."

"I always come, Granger," he whispered to her, staring fixatedly at her mouth. Teasingly, she laved her lips with her tongue and kissed him again, nibbling at his bottom lip, enjoying the texture.

"I missed you," she murmured into his mouth and cupped his head to deepen the kiss, feeling his toy with a button on her cloak. Reluctantly, she pulled away and rubbed her nose against his. "I think Alex needs a diaper change, Daddy."

"Indeed," he rumbled. "Maybe a bath, as well."

"Pip, pip," Hermione said and pulled away from him, unfastening her cloak and walking out of the kitchen. "I'll be in the bedroom waiting. Don't take too long or else I'll fall asleep."

"Granger," he whined. "If we team up, we can clean him up faster and put him do bed faster."

Hermione paused and glanced back at him thoughtfully. "That may be true, but I think you should spend time with the baby, Draco. Just you and him. He needs to get to know you. Aside from cleaning up his bottom, bathing him won't be tough. Alex likes the water and is pretty mellow as long as the water is the right temperature and has one of his bath toys to play with. They're in a sealed bin underneath the sink. While you're cleaning him up," Hermione stripped herself of her cloak and tossed it onto the floor without a second thought, "I'll be in the bedroom waiting to give you your Christmas present even though you've been a _naughty_ boy this year." Hermione cast him a wicked, saucy look and disappeared down the hallway, promise of late night fun swaying her hips.

"You're mummy is evil, Scorpius," she heard Draco say and she silently giggled and entered her bedroom, stopping in surprise when seeing a rectangular box on the bed wrapped in emerald green wrapping paper and a silver ribbon and bow. Grinning, she scampered towards the gift and lifted up the tag as to whom it was addressed to and read, _I can't wait to rip this off of you._

Snorting at the ludicrous words, she wondered what kind of lingerie monstrosity he bought for her but felt giddy at the prospect and then cringed when remembering all the fattening food she ate that evening. There was no way she was going to be able squeeze into some itty bitty getup designed by some pervert from Paris.

Heart feeling heavy, she abandoned the unopened box and swung open her closet and studied her reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of the door and thought maybe Mrs. Thane's New Year's Resolution should be hers, too. Since the last time Hermione saw Draco six weeks ago, she put on some weight due to the holidays. The elderly couple down the hall invited her over for Thanksgiving a month ago and stuffed her and Alex full of roasted turkey and pie like Mrs. Thane had. Along with that, playing host to three cosmetic parties a week from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, many of her fellow consultants brought sugary goodies.

Frowning at her body, Hermione turned around and craned her head to get a look at her bum. Yep, that was bigger, too, and her nice suit pants were feeling extra snug like the button wanted to pop off.

Turing back around to face her reflection, she cupped her bosoms and hoped Draco would be distracted enough by them to overlook the extra juiciness she was packing.

Returning back to the box, she lifted the top and separated the tissue paper, bracing to find something small and absurd but instead her fingers came in contact with sturdy-feeling material. Gripping it, she pulled it out of the box and pursed her lips in amusement. Laying the outfit down on the bed, she closed the door and shirked her clothes and replaced them with Draco's present but first she went to her dresser and opened up the top drawer and debated black knee-stockings or thigh-high ones and eventually chose the latter.

She dressed and slid the box underneath the bed and laid down on the mattress, making herself comfortable. She contemplated on which provocative pose she'd do once Draco came knocking at the door, but her eyelids grew heavy and soon fluttered close. Sighing, she moved onto her side and curled up into the fetal position and drifted to sleep. Draco was taking far too long and as much as she wanted a good hard Christmas shag, between Alex and work and eating like a cow, she could not deny her aching muscles the rest they needed.

To be continued...


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: alina290, Woemcat, Angelus Draco, Dracomione-KoVeLover, Musette Fujiwara, hkmac, and Aya Diefair for the reviews.**

So I think it's safe to say because I have said it before. Maybe not in clear words, but Draco is dead and Hermione is alive. A dead person and an alive person cannot end up together. Also, **Lineage** is not about who ends up with who at the very end. If that's what a reader is looking for in this fic, I'm sorry, but that reader will be disappointed. I would never tell someone to stop reading this, but at the same time, I don't want my readers to be upset when the ending is not like every other ending for Dramione stories. I won't say how **Lineage** will end but keep in mind, please, that Draco will be no more than a memory in this fic.

Anyway, I'm close to finishing up my revision of **Remember the Hate** which excites me to know end! :) I can soon get started on posting **The Road of Forgiveness**, the companion piece. *Dances for joy*

Anyway, read and review. Tell me your thoughts and feelings, even when they are hostile or sad.

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A soothing tickle on Hermione's cheek roused her awake. Breathing in deeply, she turned onto her back and opened her eyes and saw Draco hovering over her with a half-annoyed yet half-amused expression. About to defend herself from falling asleep, she took notice of his hair and pinched her brows together, thinking how it had not looked like that earlier and was now a bit longer and floppy around his bangs. It was similar to the style he had at Hogwarts.

Blinking in confusion, she dropped her gaze back to Draco's face and found his features more youthful as if he regressed six almost seven years. He was also wearing his school uniform like had at Easter, but the material was not a transfigured creation and clearly was Hogwarts attire for students, completed with a green and silver tie and the Slytherin House emblem over his heart.

Tearing her stare away from Draco's clothing and young face, she noticed something odd about her bedroom. For one, it was not her room. Gasping, she sat up and goggled in alarm at the archaic architecture—lush tapestries and stone walls with a small nook near the window.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" she asked Draco and cupped the sides of her head and then patted her hair, her chin length curls gone and replace with long, wild tresses. Nodding in acceptance, she answered her own question. "Yep."

Draco snorted at her and plopped his bum down next to her. "You're not dreaming. I just did a little Charming while you slept. We better get shagging before it wears off."

He leaned down to kiss her, his lips almost meeting hers when she uncomfortably stated, "This is weird, Malfoy. I don't know if I like this." Touching her unruly hair once more and then her face, she asked, "Did you make me young, too? And what is this?" She gestured to their surroundings. "Hogwarts?"

"It's my ultimate fantasy. Well…my second, actually. I didn't think you'd appreciate being defiled during detention on Professor Snape's desk. Bloody hell, Granger, remember when I would take the mickey out of you in class. All I wanted was for you to lose your temper and for me to get caught being an arse so we could have the opportunity smudging up First Years' Potion essays from spectacular hate sex. But this will do."

As if Draco had spoken another language, Hermione stayed silent and Draco leaned over intending to kiss her again. His lips connected with her right cheek and then her left before drifting to her forehead in soft warm smooches. Warm, gooey butterflies swarmed in her belly and she almost smiled and submitted to his seduction but found his youthful exterior unsettling.

"Draco, change us back," she softly pleaded, pulling away from his mouth to see a petulant pout pucker his face. An expression he passed down to his baby boy.

"Why? This is fun."

"This is dirty. I feel dirty. I can handle the uniforms." She smoothed down the skirt and then momentarily gawked at her skinny legs before resuming her reasoning. "They're fun and kinky but I don't feel right kissing a sixteen year old boy. Don't you feel weird kissing me like this?"

"No," Draco said incredulously and cupped her stocking clad knee, rubbing and messaging it suggestively. "You were my ultimate wank fantasy. You looked like this." His hand moved from her knee and skimmed the material of her stocking until reaching the top of it and caressed the skin above. "But I took you for a knee socks kind of girl. Could've sworn seeing your knees when your robes fluttered about when walking in that prissy way you did."

Despite Hermione being quite fond of Draco, his perverseness never failed to astound her. She may start believing he fancied her some in school. Last Christmas, he said he had, but the boy in front of her had been an unforgivable little snot and to certain extents, he still was.

When attending primary school and being teased by boys for her big teeth, bad hair, and brilliance, her mother had lovingly but dishonestly told her they did it because they liked her. At Hogwarts the teasing continued but at a much more penetrating extent. After Draco had called her a Mudblood for the first time in second year, she sent an owl to her mum and wrote what the mean boy called her. She had been thirteen at the time, so she was simply fishing for parental sympathy in return. What she got was a literary version of a Howler from her dad saying,

_Button, you have my permission to break his teeth and push him off a cliff!_

_Love, Daddy_

_P.S. Mum gives her best._

Unfortunately, Hogwarts lacked cliffs and Hogsmeade was low one them, as well. There were a few steep drop offs here and there, but to Hermione's knowledge Draco never went near them. He probably reckoned someone wanted to give him a good shove and stayed away. During the first Quidditch match of fifth year, Draco kept flying by the Gryffindor bleachers to get a rise out of the students. A few times, he got close enough to Hermione where she could have yanked on the bristles of his boom. With a mighty tug, Draco could've lost his grip on the handle and fallen off and down onto the field, bones broken and pride wounded. If he had landed wrong, though…

In Hogwarts, Hermione's ultimate fantasy was hurting Draco, sometimes a little and sometimes a lot. His was of shagging her in really dumb places. Sighing, she cupped Draco's face, caressing his pubescent features.

"Change us back. This," she pressed her thumb against his lips, "is not who I love or want. I want the man, not the boy. Would you really prefer having the old me instead me today?"

Hurt darkened Draco's eyes and he slumped his shoulders, waving his wand around the room, the stone walls wearing thin to bring forth Hermione's bedroom. The nook disappeared and left behind her ordinary window, and the four poster bed shifted back to her common king size bed. Her skinny, teenaged legs thickened and filled out the stockings as her hair shortened. The last thing to change was Draco. His hair, too, shortened and the youthfulness aged and matured back to that of a twenty three-year old man.

"I do miss the old you," he said just above a whisper and to her, it sounded as if Draco preferred her younger self.

"Is it because I was thinner then?" she asked shrilly and self-sonsciously, sticking her chin out defiantly and then made an embarrassing 'eep' sound when Draco brusquely attacked her, flattening her back against the mattress as he slipped his hands underneath her knees and widened her legs so he could fit himself perfectly in between.

A leer masking his face, he lowered his head to brush his nose against Hermione's and lowly said, "I noticed the buttons of your shirt straining, Granger." His hand traveled from the back of her knee, up her leg, surprisingly over her skirt, and to the waistband where he tried wedging a finger between the material and her stomach. "Ah. This is tight, too, and I bought the size I saw you last in."

Feeling like a puffed up jelly donut trying to be squeezed and dunked into a child-sized cup of tea, she lowered her gaze in shame and tears pricked her eyes. It wasn't really anything to be disheartened about. Many of the mothers she knew were in the same situation as she. They had once been thin, athletic, and energetic. Then along came a baby, and all those things got squashed. But still…

"You think I'm fat," wailed Hermione and covered her face with her hands and wept soundly into her palms. Oh Gods, how could she let herself go like that?! Draco would never want to touch her now. In moments, he was going to leap from her like she was on fire and cringe like she was a gigantic flobberworm and bolt back to England where there were beautiful fatless women with long, straight hair. She imagined these women had no hips, therefore, could not properly bear children and could not get chunky.

"What?" she heard Draco scoff and then he growled. "I don't bloody think your fat, Granger." Giving up on trying to slip his finger between her skirt and stomach, he roughly palmed her bum and squeezed. Sniffling, she uncovered her eyes and blubbered up at him.

"Really? But you said-"

"I didn't say anything. All I said was that I bought the uniform the size I thought you were."

"So you imagined me skinnier?" her voice hitched, tears threatening to spill once more.

Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shrugged and creased his brow, managing to say, "I suppose I did but that doesn't mean-"

"I'm hideous," Hermione whimpered and covered her face again, spreading her fingers to peer through when feeling soft lips pecks connect on her forehead.

"I think not, darling," he whispered against her skin and pinched her bum cheek. "Silly of you to say such nonsense when that Thane fellow thought he was going to get the romp of his life tonight. If I didn't already despise him on principle, I'd feel sorry for him. It's unkind to tease, Granger. Blokes can only handle so much from fetching ladies such as yourself before casting an Avada on themselves."

"I wasn't teasing him," Hermione defended with an offended scowl, disbelief on Draco's face. "I wasn't. He walked me home, and that was it. If he expected more than a gracious thank you and goodbye, then it was all his doing. I've made it clear to him and to any oth-…um…I mean…"

Draco snarled, his hand abandoning her derriere and pinning both of hers above her head. He lowered his face so his nose was brushing hers. "Others?"

"I don't indulge them, Draco," she stated evenly, wiggling a trapped finger so she could caress his hand. "I'm nice to anybody who shows kindness to me and that includes men. I do not taunt them intentionally."

"Others?" he repeated scornfully, like he hadn't heard anything else.

Mildly scoffing, Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "There are no others, _Ferret_. I'm taken."

Having got his attention by using his bedroom name, his pupils dilated and he graveled out, "You seem to forget."

"Do not!" She wriggled her hands out of his grasp and brought them to his face, the heels of her palms resting on his cheeks. "I've never cheated. _Ever_. And how did we get to here? You're supposed to be groveling to me. I'm the one with the self-esteem issue. I'm the hippo. How can you even bear to touch me?"

"Oh, it's quite easy," he told her and placed a hand over her breast and smirked. "Although I can't agree with you being a hippo. They are unattractive, and you, my queen, are not." Her bottom lip protruded bashfully and he chuckled, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "Granger, you manipulative minx, I don't mind the extra meat sticking to your knockers and hips. Merlin," he mumbled while experimentally squishing one of the first. "It's like when you were feeding Scorpius."

"Your way with words is so romantic," Hermione sarcastically said and frowned when he stilled, his eyes widening in fear.

"You're not with child again, are you? Because I know how that makes women-"

"I'm not," she said firmly and Draco gave her an 'I'm not so sure' look and she plainly verified, "I've had my cycle last month and this month. I've also been on a contraceptive potion which is one of the reasons why I've put on a little weight. The other is me simply being a cow."

"But such a pretty cow," he mumbled by her lips and gently kissed her, letting a hand find the fastening of her skirt. Nimbly, he popped the two buttons and started to shimmy the material down her legs when they both heard crying coming from the hallway.

"Alex," Hermione sighed out and then gave an irritated glance at Draco. "I thought you put him to bed."

"I did. I waited until he fell asleep before I even left the nursery," he groaned, casting a wistful gaze and her form. "I want to shag you, but I'll go get him."

A few moments later, Draco returned with a teary-eyed thirteen month old clutching his father's Slytherin tie like a lifeline while said father kept his mouth preciously close to the baby's forehead. Hermione resisted the urge to hold out her arms and let Draco hold their baby. She scooted over on the bed, so he could lie down with Alex curled up on his chest in what she and other mothers have called 'the stink-bug' position, his little arms and legs curled up underneath his torso with his bottom sticking up in the air.

"Damn," she heard Draco curse under his breath but not at all out of anger, his eyes fixated on the whimpering child snuggled into his chest. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as the baby turned his head and started gnawing on his tie.

"That's not for eating," he said to the boy. The boy peered up at him with challenging grey eyes as if to say, 'everything is for eating, silly man.'

Hermione shifted onto her side, propping her head up with the support of her elbow to watch her boys interact with each other, feeling endeared and aroused at the same time.

Alex detached his mouth from his father's tie and stared up at him with spittle gathering beneath him. His mouth opened and closed a few time before saying, "Dada," and patting his hands on the man's chest.

Hermione gasped in delight and watched Draco's Adam's apple bob beneath his collar, joy igniting his entire demeanor.

"Did you hear that, Granger?" he rasped and picked the boy up by his sides, raising him high. The boy giggled and kicked his chubby legs in excitement.

"Dada," the boy said again, only louder and his father placed him next to his mother and began to gingerly poke and tickle his protruding belly. The boy's giggles turned into shrieks of mirth as his legs squirmed and arms wiggled.

"Is your daddy tickling you?" Hermione cooed and joined in on the fun, stroking feather light touches on Alex's little feet and toes. She did that a few times, elated at seeing and hearing her baby's laughter and the happiness coming from Draco.

She stopped her tickling and zoomed in and began showering Alex's face with kisses and to her astonishment, Draco seized his ministrations on the boy and mirrored her actions, smooching every patch of skin he came into contact with. A few times, he and Hermione descended onto the same spot and their heads would bump. Each time that happened, she grabbed his face and planted a hot, passionate assault on Draco's mouth before they both resumed their work on the baby who lay there contently. Daily, his mother did this to him, so it was not at all bothersome when his father joined in.

This went on until Hermione began to wheeze, placing a loving hand on Alex's tummy. "I'm out a breath."

Draco gave one last bidding kiss to his boy's cheek and then said to her, "I love you, Granger."

Fighting off that feeling of unease, Hermione grinned and replied, "I love you, too, Malfoy."

"Mama!" Alex called out from between them and turned over onto his belly and maneuvering his little lump of a body, so he could sit on his bottom. He clapped his hands and laughed.

"Does baby want to play?" Hermione then looked at Draco. "Hand me my wand. It's right there on the nightstand."

Draco craned his body and snagged her wand, handing it to her. "What are you going to play?"

"You'll see," she said to him and waved her wand, a mist of sliver magic spouting from the tip. It took a corporeal form and scurried from the edge of the bed towards Alex who cackled in delight and crawled towards the creature to meet it halfway.

"Is that…Is that a scorpion?" Draco inquired in awe, smiling when at Alex trying to grab the telson. "That's your patronus?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said and nibbled on her bottom lip. "But it wasn't always. It was something else when I was in Hogwarts. Honestly, since the Battle, I've never had to cast a patronus. A few weeks ago, I was talking with one of my clients and she said her kids love playing with her patronus. That sounded like a spectacular idea. I knew Alex would love it, so I cast one, expecting an otter and got a scorpion, instead."

"Brilliant," Draco murmured humbly and then frowned. "An otter? That's what you said it was?"

"Yes."

"Isn't the otter a cousin of the weasel family, or something or other?"

Hermione lowered her head on the pillow and softly replied, "Sometimes people can change. Their feelings, their hope, their love change. When that happens, their corporeal patronus can, too."

Draco nodded, a pained expression clouding his features. His right hand gripped the sleeve covering his left forearm. "I can't cast one."

"Are you sure? Have you tried?" Hermione asked.

"Dark wizards can't, Granger," he said in self-disgust.

"I know, but have _you_ tried? You're not a dark wizard, Draco, so I don't see any reason you can't conjure one."

"I took the Mark. That's why I can't. It's why my father can't."

"Snape took the Mark," Hermione whispered. "Yet, he had a patronus."

Draco's jaw ticked and he stared at her unbelievingly. "I sincerely doubt that. He may have been a bleedin' spy or what have you but all Dark Mark carriers were dark wizards. Some of them may have reformed, but their magic is tainted."

"It was a doe," she said. "I never saw it, but both Harry and Ron did. Draco, I'm sure you can cast one. If you'd like, I can teach you and…and maybe Alex can play with two. He'd like that."

To be continued...


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:** Thank you readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have placed this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: hkmac, idonttrustquiet, Musette Fujiwara, Guest, Vidicon666, and Aya Diefair for the reviews.**

**Vidicon666:** You made a very lovely and awesome point. It's true. What Jewish mother would willingly introduce her child to the grandparents who were Nazis? Thus, why I introduced the blackmail by blow ordeal and then hit my first domino in this crazy set up of a story. I'm glad you think that Alex should not be there in the manor and happy with the other reviewers, as well, who have said the same thing. But...that doesn't mean he won't be there for a little bit longer. *shrugs* Who knows? I do, but you know what I mean. Thank you again.

** idonttrustquiet:** Yes, the plinkets are part of the Magical U.S. currency. Thank you for your read.

**Guest:** Yeah, I liked the image, as well. :)

Longish chapter ahead. It will be the last of Baring Gifts before getting back to present time. Thank you and read and review. :)

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"_It was a doe," she said. "I never saw it, but both Harry and Ron did. Draco, I'm sure you can cast one. If you'd like, I can teach you and…and maybe Alex can play with two. He'd like that."_

Draco grumbled something unintelligible and pointed his wand at the far wall. "_Expecto_ _Patronum_."

Hermione would have been shocked if anything erupted from the tip of his wand with his half-hearted hold and lazy incantation. Expectedly, nothing happened and the man shrugged and presented her with a blank expression. "See."

"I saw nothing, Malfoy," she told him and then closed her eyes briefly and dryly scoffed. "Well, that's not true. I saw that you didn't try. Producing a patronus is difficult magic and nearly impossible to achieve on the first attempt."

"Let me guess," Draco drawled and let his head rest against the headboard of the bed, fixing his gaze on Alex playing with the scorpion. "You nailed it on the first go. Congratulations, you're a bloody genius."

Knitting her brows together, Hermione sat up. "Why so mean? And I'll have you know that I didn't get it on the first try." He opened his mouth and snapped it shut when she said, "Nor on the second. It was one of the most difficult spells I've ever done, but it was also one of the most important. I think you should at least try to conjure one."

Draco quietly responded, "What if I can't? It'll mean that I'm for sure a-"

"Let's not think about that. Let's think about now and how long you're staying. When do you have to leave?"

"I'll leave the 27th. I'll be taking a one way portkey to Kyoto."

Hermione brightened and beamed happily at the news he would be staying longer than he had the last few visits. "Really? Oh, this will be wonderful. I'm so glad I decided to cancel my Boxing Day appointments. We can spend the whole day together tomorrow. You can spend more time with Alex."

"Mmm," Draco noised while nodding pensively and then quipped, "And his mum. Which springs the question—when will we get to have our fun?"

"Probably after Alex goes to sleep." Hermione nudged her foot against her baby's bottom. He paid no mind to his mother and leaned over to caress the misty essence of the scorpion, humming in delight when feeling the pure, light magic make contact with his skin.

"When will that be?" Draco asked, crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his stomach.

"He's done all-nighters before."

"Bleedin' lovely."

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_Boxing Day 2003_

Hermione stirred awake when rolling over towards the middle of her bed, her hand coming into contact with something wet and warm. Fluttering her eyes, she saw her hand dwelling on a dark damp spot with Alex's sopped diaper not far from it. Instead of wrinkling her nose in disgust, for she was far past such new-motherly reactions, she sighed. Not because of the sheets that would need washing or the disgruntled frown Draco would wear when seeing his face so close to a pee-puddle.

She sighed because Alex was nowhere in sight.

Sitting up, she scanned her bedroom and her adjoining bathroom, surmising their vacancy of her bare-bummed baby. Her vision caught a tiny wet pool of wetness on the carpet near the threshold of the door leading into the hallway, so she climbed out of bed and followed the first clue which led to a discarded pacifier near the sitting room.

The next clue was a disheartened whimper coming from the kitchen, so Hermione entered and rounded the counter to find Alex trying to reach the handle of the refrigerator, his blond curls terribly unruly and his round little tush naked. But he still had a shirt on.

"Alex," she said to him softly, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. "What are you doing?"

Her baby turned around on unsteady legs and then placed his hands back on the fridge, patting his hands against the barrier. "Mama. Mi. Mi." He then leaned his forehead against it and broke out into a sob, and Hermione rushed towards him, scooping him up and holding him close.

"Milk," she gently said to him and kissed his forehead. "Is that what you want? Why didn't you just wake Mummy up, you silly boy?"

Alex took longer to settle down than he normally did. His cries usually died off when she held him and whispered loving words to him. Placing her cheek against his forehead, she checked for a fever but her baby felt normal. She came to the conclusion that he may very well be in a snit for no apparent reason as babies tended to get into sometimes.

"I think I'm going to give you a bath," she said to him over his wails and one-handedly clogged the sink and set the faucet to warm water followed by adding bubbles. During this, Alex violently wiggled in her arms until she sat him down on the edge of counter and hurriedly stripped him of shirt, wondering why the designers crafted the baby collar so bloody small. Were they not briefed on how large babies' heads were?

Depositing Alex into the water, being sure it was at his favorite temperature and loaded with bubbles, his wails sharpened into shrieks. Realizing that the bath was going to be cut short, Hermione found a binky inside his bath toy container and plopped it into his mouth. It bobbed in and out three good times before being spat out, disappearing into the bubbles. His screams resumed and reached out his arms towards his mother.

"Just a moment and I'll let you out," she told him, lightly scrubbing his back and legs underneath the water.

She flung the soft sponge into the container of bath toys and was about to dive her hand back into the sink to drain the water when seeing a series of large air-bubbles boil up from the foam. They were also audibly muffled.

Alex then stopped crying, his tears dying off and replaced with deep breathing. Hermione watched in a half-alarmed and half-amused state as her now content baby started fiddling with his surrounding bubbles, squashing the white foam between his slapping hands.

"Bloody hell," groaned Draco. Hermione craned her neck to see Draco dragging his feet into the kitchen looking like he wanted to murder someone, maybe even himself. "What's with the noise?" Beat. "And the piss and the diaper?"

"Why don't you make some tea, Draco?" Hermione suggested. "I'm giving Alex a quick bath before breakfast."

"Tea," he muttered. "I think snorting coffee grounds would be more suitable at six in the morning on Boxing Day."

Hermione snatched the soft sponge from the container and began rubbing it over Alex's shoulders. He looked up at her and smiled, a few teeth gleaming back at her.

"There's my morning smile," she gushed and grinned back, running a damp hand through his mussed hair. "I'm sorry you were so sad. Your tummy was probably hurting, huh?"

"He was hurt?" Draco caught, taking the basket of tea packets out of the cupboard and setting them by the stove with a worried pucker.

"He had gas," she informed lightly while pulling the plug from the sink, and Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I'm assuming he's better now."

"I think so. Poor thing. I had no idea. He's never had tummy bubbles that made him hurt so bad." Hermione rinsed Alex off with some warm water and picked him up. Wandlessly, she summoned a towel and waited the few seconds for it to appear and lay out on the counter top. Gingerly, she swaddled the fluffy cloth around her baby's body and snuggled him, his damp head falling on her shoulder.

"What kind of tea do you want?" asked Draco, rifling through her selection.

"Chamomile," she replied, leaving the kitchen in favor of the nursery to ready Alex for the day. She unwrapped him of his towel and applied baby lotion to his skin, having fun running her fingers up and down the bottoms of his feet. The next step was his diaper and before fastening, she healthily doused his bottom with a special potion to prevent diaper rash and baby powder.

She dressed him in a striped onesie, jeans, and cute little sneakers with wing-flapping baby dragons on them. After he was fully clothed, Hermione took him into the bathroom and combed his hair with painstaking gentleness, not wanting the comb to snag a knot and hurt him. Her fingers ran through his lank curls and she contemplated his reflection.

"I love your curls, Button, but you're starting to look like a girl," she said grimly and fished out a pair of nail scissors from the drawer beside her, tapping the blades against her mouth in consideration.

Ten minutes later, she reentered the kitchen to see Draco drinking his tea at the dining table with _The New England Post_ in hand.

"Dada," Alex called out and Hermione set him down on his feet where he wobbled towards his father.

Draco's eyes ignited with pride at seeing the boy toddle towards him and abandoned his drink and newspaper when the boy arrived at his knees. The man picked the child up and set him on his lap, smirking affectionately. "He walks now."

"It took a little coaxing but still prefers being carried. He started letting go of my fingers about two weeks ago."

Draco's smirk morphed into a smug leer and he lifted Alex up at arm's length and beamed up at him, the child giggling. "I like your shoes." The boy swung his legs and giggled again and then Draco stilled, his eyes narrowing. "What happened to your hair? What happened to his hair?"

"I cut it," Hermione said, pouring herself a cup of tea and bustling over to the table. "Just now."

"Why?"

"Because it resembled a bird's nest." She then added belatedly. "A girl's bird's nest."

Draco fingered a short, close-cropped whorl of his son's hair with uncertainty. "You should've consulted with me." It was Hermione's turn to ask why. "I'm his father. Don't I get a say?"

Hermione paused mid-stir with her spoon in the tea cup. "It's a haircut, Malfoy."

"Why didn't you say anything? I was right here."

"I didn't know I had to," she responded with a shrug. "I saw his hair needed chopping and I cut it. I had no idea you were going to be so sensitive about it. Would you like me to start _consulting_ you whenever I trim his fingernails, too? Or how about when I change his diaper?"

"Granger," he huffed and readjusted Alex on his lap who was gnawing on his father's Slytherin tie again. "Don't have a hissy fit. I just would have liked a say in the situation. And by all means, change his diaper when necessary."

"It's a haircut, Draco, but fine. If it's so important to you, I'll let you know the next time I think he needs one."

"The male Malfoy receives his first hair cut when he's three," Draco said and gingerly stroked the top of Alex's head.

Pursing her lips and arching a brow, Hermione asked, "Were you ever mistaken for a pretty little girl before then?"

"All the time."

Chortling, Hermione covered her mouth and attempted to sober her mirth as Draco grinned back at her. When she composed herself, she then asked out of interest, "What about female Malfoys? When do they cut their hair?"

"No idea. There hasn't been a female Malfoy in over six hundred years. From what I gathered out of the old journals belonging to my ancestors, Anthonine Malfoi could be called today as an 'oops baby'. Her parents had not needed, nor had they wanted another child. They had their male heir so having a daughter was burdensome. But as Pureblood aristocrats, they tried to make the best of it. Unfortunately, by the time dear Anthonine was ten, she was declared a Squib."

"That _is_ unfortunate," Hermione said with a nod. It must have been a nightmare being a Squib in the Malfoy family.

"That's not even the worst part. The girl's father. My great-great-great…well, you get the idea. Embarrassed by this, Gaultier made plans in murdering her, making it look like an accident."

Hermione gasped in horror and was then reminded of what an awful family Draco came from. Her instincts were shouting at her to grab Alex from him and flee but discarded the idea. She told herself that Draco would never do that, even if Alex never developed magical abilities. The man was clearly besotted by the baby.

"Please tell me he didn't," Hermione begged. "Please tell me he didn't hurt that little girl."

"Oh, he beat her plenty as she grew but when she didn't receive a letter from any wizarding school, he concocted a plan."

"And his wife, the girl's mother, was alright with this? What about her older brother, the heir?"

"I think Gaultier paid more attention to Anthonine than she did. The woman refused to even acknowledge her. As for her brother…"

"Yes?"

"He loved his sister," he said and Hermione smiled weakly.

"At least she had some sort of love," she said and her smile deflated when Draco sneered in disgust.

"Granger, you mistake my words. The love he had for her was not appropriate. He did _things_ to her."

"No," Hermione denied, shaking her head and wondering if Draco was the only half-decent person in his entire family. "Did she ever have peace? Did her father kill her?"

"He brewed a potion ensuring she would contract Dragon Pox and die. He then told his son to give it to her. Jamet said he would and went up to the girl's bedroom quarters, but," Draco raised a finger, "he didn't give her the potion but switched it with something else. He switched it with another potion. Today we call this potion Draught of Living Death."

"He faked her death," whispered Hermione in surprise. Jamet may have been a despicable human being like his parents but maybe, just maybe…

"Gaultier thought he simply botched the potion and formed lies to all who asked of how Anthonine had been ill. He arranged a private burial for the girl but unknowingly put an empty casket into the ground."

"Jamet," Hermione said.

"Jamet had taken her to the Muggle gateway and left her unconscious body there before returning home."

"So." She swirled her spoon in the now lukewarm tea. "You probably don't know what happened to her. If she grew up, got married, had children. If she ever found happiness and joy."

"I do know," he said. "It took some digging. My great-grandfather was trying to work on a Malfoy Family Tree, much like the one the Blacks have. It would start with the first Malfoi and end with the last one. He died before even completing his research in the family tomes but came across the truth about Anthonine and felt that he needed to know what became of her. If she had a lineage of her own, not that her offspring would make it on the Family Tree, he wanted to know."

"How could he have ever found out what happened to her? She was placed in the Muggle World? He would have had to-"

"Go there, yes, but decided against it and told his Muggle-Born mistress to do it for him. A few months later, she returned with her assignment. Great-grandfather read the papers, made notes of the dates, and journal entries and came to find that Anthonine Malfoi died at sixteen."

"Sixteen?" balked Hermione. "From what?"

Draco's voice was hallow yet almost melodic. "Fire, Granger."

"Fire," she repeated.

"She was tied to a stake and set on fire."

Hermione numbly moved her head from left to right. "No. She wasn't a witch, though. She had no magic. She-"

"Could read, write. It didn't help that she was a harlot. I don't think I have to tell you this, but during those Muggle times, the worse thing than being a prostitute was being an educated one. And it's just as well. The majority of those bleedin' people burned in the name of God were not even magical."

"I know," she mumbled sadly. "But it's not fair what happened to that poor girl. She…" Hermione let out a mirthless chuckle. "She probably saw death as a blessing. And if hadn't been the fire, it may have been the plague or an STD or something else equally torturous."

"Perhaps but it's what she said before being burned that I find fascinating," Draco said, a lazy smile spreading on his features. "According to the bewildered spectators, Anthonine shouted from the stake that she cursed her family from ever having daughters, that she would be the only Malfoi girl. This makes complete sense. Since then, Malfoys have only begat sons."

"How could she casted a curse? She wasn't a witch."

Draco shrugged and quirked his eyebrows. "It does raise an interesting question."

"Do you believe in the curse? To me, it sounds like your ancestors were fine with their male first-born and never bothered to have sex again. Though it's rare to produce all those boys without a single girl thrown into the mix, it's possible."

"The Malfoys used to pride themselves of never having tainted the legacy with females, using the excuse of good breeding. Now they just pride themselves. As for believing if the curse is true…Like I said, it makes sense, but I'm not so sure about its validity. She was a Squib after all."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed and stood up from the table. "I'm going to make Alex some eggs for breakfast. Would you like some?"

"I suppose."

Hermione set to work making scrambled eggs, often glancing over at Draco and Alex and smiling to herself. The baby sat restfully in his father's embrace, trying to make a meal out of the man's tie.

"Do you think we'll get a chance to use these blasted uniforms for the purpose I purchased them for?" asked Draco.

"Alex will have a nap today, and he usually sleeps for a couple of hours, sometimes more. I'm sure we will." Hermione brought over a plate of eggs and toast and placed it in front of Draco and then took the baby from him and set the boy in his high chair, scooting it between her chair and his father's. "But I will have to wash the bed sheets before then and _scourgify_ the carpet, tidy up the nursery, and then take down the Christmas decorations."

"The last two things can wait," he said dangerously. "Besides, there are still presents under the tree."

"Really?"

"I got Scorpius a few things, and you a few things. You didn't think that silly uniform was going to be your only present, did you?"

"I actually didn't think about it," Hermione admitted. "I'm mostly concerned for Alex and giving him gifts."

"You need to treat yourself, as well." Draco frowned and then took a bite of his toast.

"I do," she said unconvincingly. "I buy clothes for myself, books, and sometimes shoes." She sighed and slumped her shoulders. "Look, Draco, I'm going to let you in on a parental secret since you obviously haven't figured it out. What I want and what you want doesn't matter when it comes to Alex's wants."

An extra nose must've sprouted between her brows because Draco was staring oddly at her and Hermione assumed she would have to elaborate. "Like last night when he cried, instead of fulfilling our own wants, you got up and fetched him."

"Yes but…but…my parents always got what they wanted. Is this a money issue?"

"Not necessarily. As for you parents of always getting their desires, what effect did that have on you?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer but wondered if Draco knew it, too.

"I got whatever I wanted. Scorpius has that, and you can, too."

Giving an endeared look, Hermione set her fork down and cupped her chin. "I'm sure you always had the latest broom, the shiniest trinkets, and the most expensive clothes. You were never without materials, but what were you without?"

Flaring his nostrils, Draco replied in a sharp offended tone, "I wasn't without love. I know how _The Prophet _loved publishing articles about how my father caned me into becoming a Death Eater as my mother stood from the sidelines encouraging him."

"I know you had love, Draco," Hermione said softly. "I just think you never had the proper care you and every child deserve."

"They're good parents."

"They could've been better, and you know it."

He looked like he wanted to argue with her but instead shoved some more toast into his mouth, glowering at nothing in particular.

After breakfast, Hermione handed a bottle of milk to Alex and instructed Draco to take care of him while she stripped the bed sheets and washed the carpet. She rather would have made Draco take care of the household tasks, let him be the help for a change but knew he'd do it wrong or take longer than necessary.

The pampered prince.

As the washing machine churned and swished the bedding materials, Hermione stripped out of the wrinkled uniform and into a soft silk robe and put her short hair up into a little ponytail. She washed her face of yesterday's grime and brushed her teeth, flossed, gargled with mouthwash, and even applied citrusy smelling lotion to her neck and hands. It wasn't a shower, but it would do for the next few hours.

She found Draco and Alex in the sitting room beside the Christmas tree, the child trying to yank the ornaments off the lower branches but failing due to the Sticking Charm cast on them.

"He's determined," Draco said with a pleased smile at his son's pinched expression. He looked up at Hermione and watched her as she sat down next to him on the couch. "You took off the uniform."

"It's stifling. Like you said, it was bought to be ripped off but you have yet to make such dastardly move," she sassily retorted and molded into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"The moment this boy falls asleep, I expect you to wear it."

"We'll see. I may just want to rip off your uniform instead," she said and puckered her lips for a kiss. Draco craned his neck and obliged with a chuckle and then stooped down to the floor and crawled towards the tree, poking Alex in the belly before picking up a gift and offering it to Hermione who took it.

Once removing the black ribbon and the shimmering green wrapping paper, a black box of velvet was revealed with a golden latch. Flipping it open, she opened the lid and gasped. "Draco!"

"Do you like it?"

"It's…" Hermione blinked and traced the sturdy rose gold chain, down to the voluptuously shaped pendent embedded with tiny sparkling diamonds in a journey-like pattern. "Wow."

Draco took the necklace out of the box, undoing the clasp and carefully placing it around the woman's neck. The pendant lay heavy on her sternum between the gap of her robe as he brushed his lips against her neck. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation and found it almost sad that she appreciated the kiss more than she did the piece of jewelry. Shiny, expensive ornaments were never her thing and thought them impractical; nevertheless, she said to Draco, "Thank you. It's lovely. You shouldn't have."

He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, cupping her face and deepening his ministrations. A few moments later, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers and breathlessly said, "We should get married."

Avoiding giving him an outright no, Hermione nervously responded, "Should we?"

Groaning, the man let her face go and collapsed down beside her on the couch, glaring up at the ceiling. "I'll take that as a no."

"Draco."

"Why, Granger? Why won't you marry me?"

"I told you why."

"Yes, yes, my bleedin' parents. You think they're Mr. and Mrs. Satan or some rot."

"It's not just them, though they contribute heavily. I told you I don't want to go back to England and marrying you would require that. I want Alex away from all the baggage. Here, in the States, he's safe. People don't really stop to think who I am. They only know of Harry Potter and what he did for Wizarding England. They are near-convinced he was the only one fighting for the greater good, and you know what? I'm okay with that. It means I'm out of the spotlight and so is Alex. I go back to England with him, the paparazzi will have a field day, and he grows up with unregistered Animangi hiding in the bushes to get a closer look at him.

"On the more personal level, I don't think I fit the bill for being Lady Malfoy. I don't fancy the idea of filling my never-ending free time with arranging charity balls, tea parties, shopping in Milan and Paris. I'd want a career, not for the money, but to keep my brain busy. And if I ever managed to step in that house of horrors you call a home, again, I'd want the entire estate remodeled, and there would be no dungeons because what kind of self-respecting people have dungeons in their homes?" Not waiting for Draco to answer, she said, "Exactly. And thinking about it, why does Hogwarts have a dungeon? It's a school, never mind it's a castle. There are no schools in the States with dungeons for dormitories. How did you manage for seven years?"

"Granger, I know what you are doing. You're trying to dissuade me from wanting to marry you and, Sweetheart, you have not. If it takes setting fire to the entire bloody manor…"

"You know it's more than that," Hermione said and placed her hands on his chest, tugging at his Slytherin tie. "Think of Alex and what he needs."

They both craned their head to see the boy and laughed when seeing him curled up and sleeping underneath the Christmas tree, a single porcelain angel-shaped ornament wedged tightly in his little hand.

Wasting no time, Hermione yanked on Draco's tie to, loosening the knot and then making quick work on the buttons of his shirt.


	37. Chapter 37

_**Draco Lucius Malfoy**_

_**June 5, 1980**_

_**September 21, 2010**_

_**Adored Son and Beloved Friend**_

Lighting the tip of her cigarette with a wave of her gloved fingertip, Hermione stood at the foot of Draco's gravesite staring at the headstone, the marker being half-covered with snow. With eerily calmness, she exhaled the smoke, the smolder wafting throughout the frigid air.

The snow was up to her shins, the coldness permeating her boots and tights and making her legs cold, but she paid no mind to the glacial weather. Because she was here. In Wiltshire. At the Malfoy Manor. At Draco's gravesite. He was in the ground. Beneath the snow, dead grass, frozen earth, he lay for all eternity next to his Grandfather Abraxes.

"Damn you, Malfoy" she whispered and dropped her spent fag, kicking snow over it. It was mostly likely sacrilege to smoke in a graveyard, even worse, upon a grave, but she hardly brought herself to care.

"Care to share, Granger," said a voice from behind her. She craned her neck and saw Theodore leaning against a tall headstone about six meters away.

"It was my last one," she lied and pinned her focus back on the headstone, hearing the soft crunch of footsteps moving towards her. When Theodore arrived at her side, albeit a respective distance away from her, they stood in silence and let the sound of the wind fill their ears.

After a while, Theodore tilted his head back slightly and stuffed his hands into his cloak pockets and said, "I was there when it happened. Blaise, as well."

Throat constricting and swelling, she rasped out, "So I heard."

"Would you like to see it, too?"

Feeling her heart drop and stomach rise, both colliding with a nauseating slap from Theodore's question. Horrified, she stared at him, thinking surely he did not ask what she thought she heard. Why in the world would she want to…

"Yes," she heard herself say in a hushed, withdrawn tone and without a word, the man left her side, trekking back to the manor.

Hermione dreaded going back inside Malfoy Manor but knew it was inevitable. Alex was in there and had not been ready to see his father's grave. Blaise had offered to stay with him, her knee-jerk response being no. Yet, her son wanted to stay. He wanted to know his grandparents, and difficult as it was for her to accept and to not pull the 'I'm your mother. Do as I say' card, she regrettably stayed and picked at her breakfast while all the other last minute visitors joined in.

During breakfast, Hermione set certain conditions with Narcissa and Lucius; the first one being, she had to be present if those two ever found themselves alone with Alex...which she botched thirty minutes later when needing to see Draco's gravesite. Blaise then offered to stay with her son, but that hardly made her feel better. She distrusted everyone currently in the manor, excluding Alex, and even including Rose Weasley. Nevertheless, Blaise was a bit more tolerable than the rest.

Great Gods, she refused to believe she left her son with those lunatics!

Hastily, she caught up to Theodore, both entering the manor simultaneously where the house-elf named Mippy took their cloaks and gloves and offered tea.

"Master and Mistress is in playroom with Master Zabini and Mistress Parkinson-Weasley and children," the elf explained. "Mippy will take Master and Mistress's guests there."

"Miss Granger and I will be tending to another affair, but do tell your Master and Mistress we'll be along."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell Theodore she preferred stopping by the playroom to check on Alex, but he grabbed her wrist and Disapparated them into a darkened area. So dark, it was nearly impossible to see where they were. For a moment, she feared Theodore had ill-intended plans for her but relaxed when he said, "Lumos," and saw the brightened tip of his wand. The spot of light moved and pointed to the left causing daylight to stream through a separating veil, a curtain. The outside brightness washed over her surroundings, exposing them.

The room they were in was large with lacquered wooden flooring and an elegantly polished fireplace which ignited as if sensing human life. She moved closer to the flames and rubbed her arms, for the room was icy. From there, she noticed the king-sized, four-poster bed with a white and gunmetal color scheme. A grand, luxurious chandelier hung from the middle of the dome-shaped ceiling, the crystals reflecting the winter day. She glanced back at the window and strolled towards it, ignoring Theodore as he un-pocketed his flask and nursed it.

"We're still in the manor," she stated when seeing the Malfoy graveyard below, her breath fogging the window.

"Indeed," Theodore said and she saw him going near a corner of the wall. The creased corner separated and a stone pensieve perched on a pillar-like platform emerged from a hidden nook. The man cupped his hands on the basin's rims and peered down. His Adam's apple bobbed meticulously but aside from that, he displayed no emotion. Silently, Theo lifted his right arm in a beckoning gesture, an empty vial floating into the waiting hand and coming from the hidden compartment. Sticking his wand into the pensieve, he withdrew a wispy strand of memory and coerced it into the empty vial.

"Why do you have a pensieve here?" Hermione asked, thinking it strange Theodore had one dwelling in Malfoy Manor. Why wouldn't he have it at his own place?

"It's Draco's," he said, corking the memory and letting it float back into the hidden nook.

"Draco's?" Hermione marched over, stopping when getting to the basin. Staring down and then into the hidden nook, she sharply inhaled when seeing shelves of vialed memories. There had to be at least twenty of them. "These are his?"

Theodore said nothing and touched the tip of his wand to his temple, extracted a memory, and deposited it into the pensieve and stepped away to give her space. "You wanted to see."

Hesitantly, Hermione stepped where he had been and gripped the basin's rims and lowered her chin. Exhaling, a tear escaping from her eye and dropping, and causing ripples in the awaiting memory. She didn't really want to see but as she dipped her face into the basin, it was more a matter of needing to.

A falling sensation overwhelmed her like she was a drop of ink was shooting down from a murky sky into a glass of water. She landed joltingly on the back of a broom behind a hunched over Theodore who was wearing black Quidditch gear. In the crook of his left arm was a quaffle and he was flying towards three hoops. Rain poured from the greyish, cloudy sky and Hermione saw a figure fly towards them. It was Blaise dressed in dark grey Quidditch gear, and he flew downwards and up on Theo's left side, his dark eyes on the quaffle.

"Give us a kiss, mate," he taunted and dove towards them and Theodore abruptly dropped, the handle of his broom shooting straight down, the rain-sopped grass coming up on them quickly. Hermione's stomach lurched and fought the instinct to wrap her arms around Theodore's waist, reminding herself she was not going to fall off the broom. Unless of course he did. And thankfully he did not and shot straight up at a slant, the hoops closer in sight.

A familiar looking man rose up to block Theodore, and Hermione wanted to call him Herkins…Harrows, Harper? Yes, Harper, and Theodore was unfazed by his arrival, merely slowing his broom to a full stop.

"Not even going to try?" laughed Harper, a bludger darting by and hitting the handle of his broom and breaking it off in shards. He spiraled to the ground as Theodore threw the quaffle into one of the hoops, scoring. The ball was then caught by another familiar man, and his name had to have been Pucey. He was wearing dark grey Quidditch gear like Blaise and Harper with a playful yet competitive gleam in his eyes which slackened when his eyes focused on something passed Theodore's shoulder.

Making a half-circle on his broom, Theodore searched for what had caught Pucey's attention, and Hermione's eyes widened when seeing Draco with his black Quidditch outfit billowing in the wind. Her heart seized and she was unable to prevent the smile forming on her lips at seeing the sheer determination set on his handsome features with his arm stretched out and the Snitch flying teasingly away from him.

Beside Draco was a man dressed in grey that Hermione did not recognize and appeared a few years younger than most of the other men. He, too, had his arm stretched out, his hand opening and closing in feeble attempts to grasp the Snitch.

"Don't let him get it, Malcolm!" shouted Pucey from behind her and Theodore.

At that, Hermione saw Draco shift his body weight over and down, thus, causing his legs to lose their grip on his broom. His gloved hand encircled the fluttering golden ball on his way down to the ground, and it was like watching him fall in slow motion. The man called Malcolm reacted belatedly to Draco's fall and flew down to help him but was too late. Draco hit the ground back first and winced and waved off Malcolm's helping hand.

"I only fell a few feet. I'm fine," he griped and groaned when bending his knees and curling up into a sitting position. He then climbed to his feet, brushed off the wet grass remnants with his free hand and then stuck his other triumphantly into the air. Those donned in black clapped, including Theodore, only his was out of sync with the others, slower and less enthusiastic.

Hermione watched Draco smirk arrogantly up at his friends and then a peculiar expression washed over his face and his arm descended back to his side, the Snitch flying out of his hand. It was like he had suddenly lost his balance, and she watched as his left leg took a small step back for support which failed him, and he fell backwards onto the grass with a soft thump. He lay there unmoving.

"Oi, Draco, get your lazy arse up!" howled Blaise and swooped down over his friend.

Knowing this was it. This was where it happened, the walls of Hermione's throat constricted and swelled, tears gushing down her cheeks.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" she cried at Theodore's back. "You're just sitting here on your stupid broom doing nothing! All of you are! Can't you see he's not alright?!"

"Probably trying to pull our legs," commented Pucey, flying his broom next to Theodore's. "Bloke sniffles over a bleedin' paper cut."

Hermione refrained from yelling at him, not because Pucey wouldn't hear her, but because had said the truth. She had witnessed several occasions Draco bemoaning over a stubbed toe, paper cuts, and lack of sex.

"Hey, mates," said Malcolm, hopping off his broom and bending over to examine his unconscious friend. He removed the glove from his right hand and clenched Draco's shoulder, shaking him. He then stuck his fingers underneath the man's nose. "He's not breathing."

Theodore's back stiffened and then pointed his broom handle downwards and descended gradually.

Choking back a sob, Hermione saw Malcolm place his pointer and middle finger on Draco's neck, direct upon his friend's pulse-point.

Malcolm flinched and yelled in ire, "He's got no pulse." And then he mumbled to himself, digging his wand out of his pocket and pointing it at Draco. "_Rennervate!"_

Nothing happened.

Harper was second to rush over, and Blaise was the third, hitting the ground and sprinting towards Draco and falling to his knees. He shirked his gloves and Draco's to properly feel for a pulse at the wrist.

Theodore landed his broom and Hermione leapt off before he discarded it on the ground, running with him towards Draco even though she desperately wanted out of the memory. She had seen enough and staying longer meant torturing herself more.

The other team members landed, as well, and gathered around their friend, and Hermione watched them heartbreakingly point their wands at Draco, casting the _Rennervate _spell on him, desperation in all their voices. Even Theodore dropped to his knees, pushed at Draco's legs, having given up magically and was trying manually.

"We need to get him to St. Mungo's," he hissed which sounded so odd yet comforting coming from his usually distant and unconcerned tone. "Now!"

The rain began to worsen and Hermione started backing away when the thirteen teammates grabbed at each other, some grabbing ahold of Draco. As they Disapparated, Hermione was thrust upwards and out of the pensieve. Gasping for breath, she tilted backwards but was caught by Theodore who held her awkwardly.

"Let me go," she wheezed, tears spilling out of her eyes.

"You need to lie down," he said, trying to steer her in the direction of the bed.

"I need to vomit. Let me go," she moaned and he unhanded her. She stumbled a few steps and collapsed to her hands and knees, retching onto the floor. Shudders and nauseating spasms rocked her body as she emptied her stomach of what little breakfast she ate, feeling as though hours had drifted by before slightly calming.

"Why did you show me that?" she managed to croak, letting her body fall into a twisted sitting position, her hands still over her sick.

"Because you needed to see," he replied vacantly and waved his wand at her mess, cleaning it up.

Sniffling, she wiped her mouth and nose with her sleeve and stared up at him accusingly. "You did nothing. All of you did. You all watched as he died."

If her words cut him, he hadn't let it show. He merely stared back at her and said, "It wouldn't have mattered anyway."

Weakly but resolutely she climbed to her feet and sputtered at him, "What? How can you say that? He was your friend!"

"He was gone the moment he hit the ground. Nothing could have saved him. Not me and not the twelve other people on the pitch. What happened to him was inevitable. If it hadn't been there then it would've happened somewhere else a few days later or even a few days earlier. I'm sure Blaise explained to you what caused Draco's death."

"Please stop talking like…like…"

"Like what?"

"Like you don't give a shit! Like you're fine! Like you've accepted that Draco's gone!"

"I do care, Granger," he said evenly, eyes flashing almost dangerously. "But I'm fine and I have accepted it. You need to, as well."

"I've had three days where you have had almost two months to wrap your head around this nightmare? And…and why are you here? To torture me with that memory? Blaise could've given it to me."

"He refused. I told him he needed to, and he refused. It's why I'm here." He then added after a pause. "I also wanted to see the boy."

Hermione swallowed and let her eyes drift close momentarily, fancying the idea of downing a capful of Draught of Peace before snuggling into bed. The bed in the room must've belonged to Draco, and she wondered if the sheets smelt like him still or if they stunk dryly of dust and lifelessness.

"Let me take you to the playroom," she heard Theodore offer. "My presence is no longer needed."

* * *

A/N: Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list. I doubt that the chapter was enjoyable, but I hope it was informative, and I'd love to hear what your thoughts about it. I know a lot of you were hoping for more Alex, Narcissa, and Lucius action. That will be in the next chapter. I promise. :)


	38. Chapter 38

"_Let me take you to the playroom," she heard Theodore offer. "My presence is no longer needed."_

"Hold on," she said and raggedly sighed, bringing a hand to her perspiring face. Her skin felt filthy and haggard and as much as she wanted to sprint to the playroom, she was not going to give Lucius and Narcissa the satisfaction seeing her this way. She gestured to the closed door a few feet away from the pensieve nook. "I need to…"

"Of course," Theodore said and made himself comfortable on the lone chair next to the fireplace.

Twisting the crystal doorknob, she entered Draco's bathroom and closed the door behind her. As expected, the style was luxurious and expensive with a large tub and a grand separate shower. Ivory white and bronzed brown rugs were placed on the floor. Stepping on one, she bet they probably were comfortable squishy to the bare foot.

In another lifetime, in another world, she may have liked to visit Draco's manor, specifically this bathroom. The tub did look particularly inviting where crystal glasses full of interesting things were perched on the edge. Removing the lid from one of the crystals, she peered in and saw a form of potion that smelt strongly of something medicinal, not unlike the Muggle muscle ointment Biofreeze. Draco must've poured this potion into his piping hot bath after a rough game of Quidditch or a long day from work. Or some really spectacular sex. Unable to let her thoughts end there, she couldn't help but stare at the tub and wonder if Draco had shared his bath time with Astoria. The answer was most likely yes because Hermione wasn't naïve enough to think otherwise. Upon Draco's visits during their time together, they too had shower fun and shared a bath together. Unfairly, the bath had not looked like this but had served its purpose.

Lidding the potion, she lifted another crystal lid and Draco's scent wafted through the air. Smiling sadly, she hurriedly capped it, never having grown fond of the smells he soaked his body in, always wishing he'd simply wash his body with soap. She had preferred his natural smell above all else. It had been a clean, refreshing smell.

The other crystals were filled with baths salts or bombs, and she took a little time connecting with this part of Draco he left behind before walking to the sink and peering at her reflection.

"Your hair is curling," her reflection said pointedly, the doppelganger lifting its hand and running a fingertip at its hairline. "Just right there. You might also want to touch up your make up and wash your mouth. Remember how Mum and Dad demanded you clean your teeth and mouth after vomiting."

Almost smiling, Hermione undid the black ribbon in her hair and set it aside before placing her purse on the counter top and rifling through. Having been employed by the cosmetic and skin care industry for a could chunk of a decade, she had picked up a few good habits like thoroughly washing her face and adding anti-wrinkle cream before applying moisturizer. She did all this and then rifled through her bag for some mouthwash or a toothbrush but no such luck. Most of her toiletries were back in Blaise's flat, so she began going through the drawers and found Hair Removal potion, hair gel, hair mousse, ten different kinds of combs and brushes, hair ointment for light blond hair, and Hair-Thickening potion.

Giving up on that drawer, she opened another and found several different types of shampoos and conditioners. Goggling momentarily at the load, she contemplated stealing a set. These were expensive brands from foreign places. Picking up a bottle, she read the French label and then popped the cap, stealing a whiff. It smelt good and her French was rusty but understood it tamed wild, unruly hair. Why Draco had it was beyond her but surely he wouldn't care if she took it. He wasn't using it, and she could use it on Alex's hair. He's probably approve of that.

With a little shame, she shrank the two bottles and put them inside her bag and continued her search for mouthwash and eventually discovered a mouth cleansing potion and uncapped it, pouring some into the lid and knocking it back, swishing it in her mouth and feeling the tingling burn of the solution killing the bacteria. After spitting it out, she rinsed her mouth and dabbed her lips on the soft towel hanging next to her. She then reapplied some powder on her cheeks and mascara on her lashes and concluded her grooming by fishing out of her purse the potion spray that cost her more than a bit of money back in Salem. After spritzing some on her tresses, she combed and smoothed out the curls threatening to coil. She added some lip cream to sooth the dryness from the mouthwash and tied her hair back into the ribbon and breathed in deeply, composing herself, pretending she was not deeply troubled from what Theodore had shown her. It was unnecessary bursting into tears again and vomiting.

Her stomach flung itself up in a discomforting motion causing her to wondered if Draco kept any other medicines in the bathroom besides muscles soothers. Rifling through some more cabinets, she frowned when seeing a contraceptive candle. Pulling a face, she picked it up and studied the wick. It had never been lit which was just as well. They didn't work according to many of her friends who were mothers. Hermione also knew from first-hand experience they did not work but had sounded like a brilliant idea at the time. Her Healer had prescribed her to drink an Immunity Building potion during a vast spreading of Faerie Pox. The potion neutralized the effects of contraceptives, so Hermione chose to forgo that source of birth control and use the candle. It had been a few years ago when she and Draco were together. He visited on Easter and…

There it was. Stomach Settling potion. Uncapping it, she took a swig and shuddered at the strong ginger taste, her stomach immediately relaxing into a normal state. With her hands in front of her face, she fanned her flushed skin, her tears ready to spring forth and ruin all her work. Calming herself, hoping her control remained intact, she gave one last look at Draco's bathroom and departed back into his bedroom where Theodore stood in front of the pensieve, stricken looking and sort of conflicted.

"I find myself curious," he said emptily, not looking at her but into the secret nook. He placed his hands onto the basin's rims and quietly continued, "There was a memory in here already. One that he had yet to remove and place back into a vial."

"You want to see," Hermione said to him thickly, closing the bathroom door behind her and walking towards him. Clutching her bag like a lifeline, she took another step forward and peered into the nook, all the wispy memories gleaming in the glass vials evoking her curiosity.

"So do you," Theodore said.

Staring at him, she slightly winced in and shook her head. "We mustn't."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and replied, "I'm surprised. I thought you would go for it. It would be very Gryffindor of you."

Refraining from rolling her eyes, she said, "You think a school House I was a part of over ten years ago reflects my personality today? I've changed, Mr. Nott. Like you pointed out, I am curious, but it's none of my business. These memories," she gestured to the nook, "are private. I can't."

Theodore stared at her fully from behind his black-wire framings like he was considering her. "I doubt his parents know about this. I only knew about this because I helped him build this hideaway. It wouldn't offend them if we decided to have a peek."

"You think I care if I offend those people?" Hermione inquired dubiously, folding her arms and sticking her chin out. "I'm only here because of Alex and because I wanted to see Draco's grave to pay my respects."

"By having a smoke? I respect that. Speaking of." He slid out the cigarette container she had seen earlier from his inner coat pocket and opened it, muttering curses under his breath. "Damn, I forgot."

"Maybe you should quit," she suggested hypocritically.

"I did once. I didn't like it." He slipped the empty container back into his pocket and examined her purse.

"I don't have anymore," she lied, knowing his thoughts and quickly changing the subject. "Now take me to the playroom. I think Alex has had enough of Draco's parents for one day."

Theodore led her to the bedroom door and opened it for her. "To let you in on a little secret, Miss Granger, they are not as frightening as you make them out to be. Old Lucius is too crippled and weary going out and about throwing insults at the blood-diluted common folk. Same goes for Narcissa. However, steer clear from that Rose Weasley. Pansy's daughter is nothing but trouble."

"My, my, Mr. Nott," Hermione said in amusement as he closed the door and guided her down the hallway. "Are you actually cracking a joke?"

"No. I'm serious."

She frowned at his grave expression and kept silent for the trip to the playroom. They passed many portraits of Draco's ancestors, some of them peering curiously at her in intrigue and some sneering at her, mouthing 'Mudblood'. Heart sinking, she loathed the idea of Alex having anything to do with this environment. He was only beginning to grasp the idea of blood-bigotry because of the history lessons he learned in school. Only a few weeks ago he came home asking about his Blood Status of which she replied Half-blood. He then asked what hers was and she told him she was a Muggle-Born. He had then nodded solemnly and told her of the history lesson he learned in class. Mrs. Fitchell had taught her class the child-safe version of the Britain's Wizarding War.

"_Mommy, you were there during that time? They said that Muggle-Borns were not liked very much. Were you ever scared? Did you get hurt? Is that where you got that…that scar?"_

"_No, I was never scared," she lied and hugged him, kissing his forehead. "I was never hurt either. That scar was simply an unfortunate hex I received in my school days. It didn't even hurt when I got it. It was just simply there. I went out of the country, so I could be safe."_

"_They say that Harry Potter defeated You Know Who all by himself. He was a Half-blood like me."_

"_Yep," Hermione said, guilt pooling in her belly at telling her son lies. It wasn't right, but he wasn't ready to know everything just yet._

Theodore turned a corner and Hermione followed, checking her watch. They had been walking ten minutes and had yet reached the playroom. Yes, the manor was large but the playroom couldn't possibly be so far away from Draco's room considering it had once belonged to him. She then narrowed her eyes at a familiar portrait and then glanced at another familiar looking portrait.

"We've been down this hallway before," she said, coming to stop. "Are you lost?"

"We're not lost," Theodore said blankly. "It's just a bit farther away."

"But we've walking for a long time, and we've been down this hallway before."

Theodore walked away from her towards the end of the hall where the choices were either turn left or right. At first, they had turned left and Hermione remembered this. They most certainly had been down this hallway previously. This time Theodore turned right and disappeared around the corner, and she stomped after him. For whatever reason, he had led her around in circles, the prat. The longer she was away from her son, the longer he was with those lunatics.

She caught up to Theodore when he turned another corner that led down another hallway. At the end of it was a room with a wide opening, and she heard the faintest sounds of talking. Picking up her pace, she stopped at the threshold and saw Alex sitting at a child size tea-table with Rose Weasley.

"There you are," said Blaise from the corner who sat in a rocking chair next to Pansy and Narcissa. "Where have you been?"

"Mommy!" exclaimed Alex and rushed towards her, out of his little seat, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smiled down at him and finger-combed the curls away from of his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked him and he nodded, tightening his hold. "Are you ready to go?"

He nodded again and said, "Can we come back again?"

Clicking her back molars together, Hermione answered, "Yes," through her teeth, pointedly ignoring the satisfied grin radiating from Narcissa.

"He's been having a splendid time with Rose, haven't you Alex?" the older woman said.

"I think she's really taken to him," Pansy added and Rose rolled her eyes and huffed, resting her head on her tiny hand while drumming her fingers in boredom on the tea-table.

"We haven't finished our tea party," she whined, her bottom lip poking out. For good measure, she shoved at the stuffed dragon sitting next to her, the toy toppling to the floor dejectedly.

"You know, Alex," Pansy said while placing a hand on her belly, getting up from her rocking chair with Blaise's help. "When I was yours and Rose's age, I would come here all the time and play with your father."

"Really?" Alex stared at her inquisitively, his arms still around his mother's middle.

Pansy nodded and reached a hand out towards Rose who march over and rested her ginger head on her mother's pregnant belly. "Yes, but I think I am done for the day, as well. Rose's little brother is showing Mummy who's in charge. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy for having my daughter and me over. Perhaps if I'm rested enough, I can return tomorrow. Maybe I can persuade Ronald in joining me. He very much wants to speak with you, Hermione. Harry, as well."

"I've already spoken to Harry," Hermione said forcedly and Pansy arched an eyebrow in mild alarm.

"Really? I can only imagine it was a bittersweet reunion considering…"

"It's none of your business," clipped Hermione.

Pansy's other brow mimicked the former. "Regardless, Ronald wants to speak with you." She then turned to Narcissa. "I hope you don't mind if he tags along tomorrow. I'll make sure he's on his best behavior."

The older witch licked her teeth behind her firmly pressed lips and slit her eyes. She inhaled deeply as if she were weighing the pros and cons, giving Hermione the impression Pansy had placed herself into a troubled lifestyle. It was a lifestyle of appeasing to her Blood Traitor husband and yet staying loyal to her elegant Pureblood heritage.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said to her. "I assume you will be returning tomorrow with Alexander."

"If I must," Hermione curtly said and gazed down at her son. For him, she would.

"Pansy, you may bring your husband to accompany you. I'll take your word that he will act like in accordance."

"He will. Won't he, Rose?" Pansy asked her daughter playfully, the girl grinning mischievously up at her mother.

"I'll make him. Don't worry, Mummy."

When Pansy and Rose left, a dense tension plagued the playroom and Hermione took advantage of their absence and asked Alex, "Was everyone nice? No one said anything mean to you, did they?"

Ignoring the muffled snorts and the huff of dismay, she waited for her son's answer. His little shoulders shrugged and grimaced. "Rose is kind of bossy."

"We had to send Lucius out to find you two," Blaise piped up as if he itched to say it since Hermione and Theodore arrived. "Where did you two go? I thought you were out in the cemetery."

"Granger and I-" Theodore began but was cut off by Blaise.

"You showed her, didn't you?" he spat and marched towards his friend.

"Showed her what?" Narcissa asked, her tone wary.

"I offered to show her, and she said yes," Theodore defended. "She could have said no."

"What is going on?" Narcissa tried and Blaise grumbled.

"Nothing you need to be concerned about," Hermione answered before Blaise or Theodore could.

Narcissa stared tartly at her, her hands balling into fists. The only reason she wasn't putting the younger witch in her place was because of the boy. He probably disliked people yelling at his mother. From what she saw these past few hours, Alex was irrevocably fond of Miss Granger and loved her more than anything as many young children tended to do with their mothers. If she yielded to the tempting thought of tutoring Alexander a _certain_ way, incontestable difficulties would arise from the child. From these past few hours in his presence, he was undeniably Draco's son and not just physically. There were similarities personality-wise which made Narcissa wonder about the boy's future. Despite Miss Granger's firm resistance against Alexander remaining in England, it would be absurd to have him commute back and forth from Salem. He must simply go to Hogwarts to receive his education.

While studying the boy during Miss Granger's absence, Narcissa determined Alex had great potential in being sorted into Slytherin but much to her consternation, he also displayed Gryffindor qualities. And it wasn't so much of the House she had a problem with but the students' reckless and thoughtless behavior. There was being courageous and then being preposterously thick. In all honesty, the boy reminded her of Andromeda.

Brushing off the thought of her estranged sister, Narcissa placed her focus back on the boy, thinking it prudent to map out his future currently instead of later. There was a reason she told Pansy to bring Rose. The little girl was a firecracker, needless to say, and despite how cunning she was, her father's temperament had polluted the girl's chances of being a Slytherin. But all in all, the girl was a Pureblood and would grow into a striking young lady. She and Alexander would be a perfect arrangement.

_You thought Draco and Pansy had been a perfect arrangement, too, and look how that turned out,_ a voice inside her head told her. Ignoring it, she patted Blaise on his shoulder and gave Theodore a warning eye. "Let's not fight, children. Shall we go down into the Yellow Tea Room for some tea and cake?"

"Cake?" squealed Alex, his eyes widening in excitement. "What kind?"

"Whatever kind you desire, darling," she cooed, earning a glare from his mother.

* * *

The tension had not fully settled in the tea room. Blaise continued to glare at Theodore as Narcissa silently drank her tea. Alex sat on Hermione's lap, switching off feeding her and himself bites of rich chocolate cake with mousse filling.

"It's really good, Mom," he said, eating the last bit of cake, chocolate crumbs around his lips. Hermione smiled warmly at him and took the cloth next to the plate and wiped his mouth, giving his cheeks kisses when he was all tidy.

"Did you…" Alex paused to chew his bottom lip before finishing in a very hushed voice so the other three at the table wouldn't hear. "Did you see Daddy?"

Somberly, Hermione nodded and hugged her boy when his chin started to tremble and nose reddened. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and wept.

"Oh Button," she whispered and looked to Blaise. "I think we should go. He's getting tired."

"You'll be back tomorrow," came from Narcissa. It was more of a statement or even a demand than a question. She wanted to spend more time with her grandson and had felt a bit put out when he kept busy with Rose. Lucius wanted to spend more time with him, as well. With Hermione being busy with Pansy's husband the next day, maybe she and Lucius could persuade the boy's mother of letting them simply conversing with him, getting to know all about him and his upbringing.

"Yes, we will return tomorrow. Late morning most likely," Blaise answered, sneering one last time at Theodore before standing up from his chair and buttoning his suit. "Theo, give Daphne my best."

On their way out, they ran into Lucius near the entrance where the younger wizard outright told him what kept Theodore and Hermione.

"He showed her the memory of what happened," Blaise said crisply, purposefully keeping his statement vague for Alex's ears.

Lucius frowned reprovingly and eyed Hermione and asked with false consideration, "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," she coldly responded and adjusted Alex legs encircling her waist.

"I trust you'll be back tomorrow."

"We will be," affirmed Blaise and bid his goodbye and then led Hermione out of the manor. They walked down the stone pathway towards the gates and stopped and set Alex down on his feet. She took his hand and Blaise's and Disapparated to his flat where she laid her son down for a nap. He wiggled up close to the headboard and curled up into a ball. She left him in the room and went out into the sitting room to see Blaise nursing a glass of scotch wearing a grim expression.

"He shouldn't have shown you that," he growled and rubbed the back of his head, muttering under his breath. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I didn't have to. I chose to," she calmly explained and smoothed out the skirt of her dress. "The memory was…brutal but informative. I probably could have gone on with life without seeing it, but now I know."

"Probably think we're all tossers. All of just bloody watching and doing shite about it."

"Well, yes." She shuffled to the double doors across the room. "I'll be out here for a few minutes."

"Lung cancer," he mumbled and sat down on the couch, relaxing his head.

Hermione cautiously stepped out on the balcony and stared down at Muggle London. It was beginning to snow as she lit her cigarette and stole a puff. She heard the doors open behind her and craned her head to see Blaise join her.

"I forgot to ask how you think it went," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door.

"That's a stupid question, Blaise," she replied and flicked some ash onto the snow-covered railing. "You know I didn't want to be there. You know I especially didn't want Alex to be there either."

"It could've gone worse. Narcissa and Lucius, they're trying really hard, Granger. And you didn't even have to see the drawing room."

"I'm tolerating this nightmare because of Alex. I don't give a shit how hard Draco's parents are trying to be nice to me. You say they're better than they were in the war and maybe that's true, but they're not cured. If Alex had been a Squib, they would not be nearly as thrilled. I can tell they accepted he's not a Pureblood, but they desperately wish he was. Already they set him up with a _worthy_ playmate."

"If you'd been fed lies all your life and was expected to change overnight-"

"It's been over ten years since the war ended. That's not overnight." Hermione stabbed the smoldering cigarette into the railing, hearing a low hiss from the heat making contact with the snow and then tossed it by her feet. Looking back over the city, she shook her head. "I don't like this, Blaise. They could hurt Alex so badly if they chose to. He's only eight and so trusting. He doesn't know grownups can be bad people. The only bad people he knows are the ones he reads in books, the ones defeated by good people."

Blaise waited for her to go back inside his flat where they spent the rest of the day holed up. When Alex woke up, Blaise offered to teach them both how to play Wizard's Chess. Hermione already knew how to play, but her technique was on the same level as a troll, so she listened in on Blaise's instructions and watched as he played the game with her son. They played three rounds before Alex grew bored, having lost each time and told his mom she should play. Blaise won again and then suggested they watch a movie.

"You know what a movie is?" she asked.

Blaise lifted his nose and huffed. "Of course I do. I'm not a stranger to Muggle technology. Many of their trinkets are entertaining. Do you have a preference?"

"Probably something child-friendly."

"So _Blue Valentine _is out of the question?"

Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the skin between her brows. "I'm deeply mortified you even know about that movie."

"I feel the same way about you. I can't imagine you watching that…or any naughty film."

"I didn't say I've seen it, and you are right. I don't watch naughty films. Now we got that out of the way, I would be surprised, too, if you had movies for children."

They ended up watching _How to Train Your Dragon_, Blaise possessing the movie due to babysitting Pansy's kids now and then. Following the film, they ate dinner and played a few games of Exploding Snap where Hermione won all but one round. The last game she had let Alex win. Another movie was watched, and all of them were beginning to grow tired. After discussing the need for sleep, Blaise offered, "You two should accompany me to Italy this weekend. I have a few things I need to take care of."

"Mom, can we?" Alex asked earnestly.

"I don't think so, sweetheart." Hermione shook her head and then hugged him. "We can stay here until he gets back."

"Actually, Granger, I was thinking about scoring you and Alex a break from the Malfoys. When his tutors arrive, he will be spending longer days there at the manor."

"Tutors?" Hermione blinked. "So soon? Already? We just got here."

"What's a tuuuu-toooor?" inquired Alex. "Is it someone who toots?"

Blaise chortled and Hermione half-smiled and said, "No. A tutor is someone who teaches. They are like a private teacher."

Alex visibly deflated, a scowl in place. "Like school. I thought coming here meant no school."

"Your education is important, Alex. Though I wish you were back in Salem receiving it, it seems there have _already_ been arrangements for your studies." Hermione sourly looked at Blaise like it was his fault Alex would be taught by tutors hired by the Malfoys. "But you need not worry. I'll be present to make sure the tutors teach you correctly."

"So…" Alex gazed up at her pleadingly. "Can we please go with Daddy's friend to Italy?"

Drawing in a deep pensive breath, Hermione's will began to crumble at the wide grey eyes of her little boy. He slightly protruded his bottom lip and worked his manipulative magic on her maternal instincts. And damn, if it made him happy going to Italy with a strange man, especially with knowing his father was gone, she wasn't in any position to deny him.

"If you really think we must," she caved and her regret somewhat lessened when he beamed up at her and threw his arms around her and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, Mommy."

"You'll have fun, Granger," Blaise told her, an arrogant smirk in place. "Italy is sublime."

"I don't doubt it, but I'm not so sure about the company," she hinted with a cautious eye. "Will we be seeing _your_ mother?"

The man pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "You've never met or even seen my mother."

"I've _heard_ plenty and please spare me the details of how she's actually a loving person. Just tell me we won't see her."

"I'll have you know that she loves me, but fret not, Granger. We won't be seeing her. She's currently residing in Berlin until Christmas. It's a shame. She loves children."

All three of them retired to bed, Hermione still wanting to sleep next to Alex. They slipped underneath the covers, and she tangled her arms around him and rested her head above his on the pillow.

"Will you tell me a story?" he asked, his eyelids heavy and top eyelashes nearly tickling his cheeks.

"Which one do you want to hear?"

"The one Daddy used to tell me. I like that one the best. Watching the _Dragon_ movie made me remember it."

Hermione's saddened frown went unseen by her son. Playing with his disarray of curls, she asked, "You want that one? How about the Three Little Pigs?"

"I like Daddy's story better."

"Alright, I'll tell you Daddy's story," she resigned, dreading having to recite Draco's bedtime story he fabricated for their son a couple of years ago. "Once upon a time, there was a peasant girl who lived in a village near a-"

"You forgot something. You forgot to say what she looked like," Alex interjected and she choked down a groan and complied by starting over.

"Once upon a time, there was a peasant girl who had long brown, curly hair and dark brown eyes. She lived in a village not far from a kingdom. Her parents had told her when she turned eleven, she'd be sent off to the kingdom where she could receive a proper education. The day after her eleventh birthday, the girl packed all her belongings and made the trek to the kingdom where she stayed for years going to school and…" Hermione chewed her bottom lip before continuing, "And reading many, many books. She was brilliant, but there were some in the school and in the kingdom who did not like her because she was not born there. They thought of her as poor and dirty and didn't think she belonged in their rich and elegant community. They wanted her to leave, but there were no other schools, so she stayed despite opposition being pressed upon her.

"In the school, there was another student. He was of royal descent, and he had lived in the kingdom all his life. From a small age, his parents taught him that outsiders were not to be mingled with, and that they were filth. For most of his childhood, he believed this until…until…he started liking the peasant girl and started having doubts about what his parents had taught him. Nevertheless, he made his feelings unknown out of fear of what his parents might think, and that the peasant girl would reject him because she was in love with someone else.

"A war broke out in the kingdom and sides had to be taken. The peasant girl fought for herself and others who were outsiders, too. The boy aligned himself with the dark side as did his parents. During this war, his father had been given a certain task by the dictator of the kingdom and failed. As punishment, the dictator cursed the boy on his sixteenth birthday and turned him into a dragon and sent him to dwell in the dungeon of the dictator's castle for the rest of his days.

"As the war waxed on, many outsiders were captured and never heard from again. Some were taken to the castle and locked away. The peasant girl was one of the few imprisoned as a slave. Her treatment was to go down into the dungeons tri-daily and feed the dragon. It frightened her to do so and was afraid the dragon would eat her, but she had no choice. The dictator threatened to punish her, if she refused her duty.

"After a few days of feeding the dragon, the peasant girl noticed the creature was not violent. It never tried to hurt her or breathe fire out at her but simply lay shackled on the dungeon floor almost looking morose. She had studied dragons before and knew this was not typical behavior for the creature and took pity on it. So each time she ventured down to feed him, she stayed longer to keep it company. After a while, she began talking to the dragon and even braved stepping closer to it because it seemed like it was listening and perhaps enjoying her company. The peasant girl found it all entirely odd, for dragons didn't understand people nor did they like them, but this one did.

"The dragon let her touch its scales and horns. It was very content being petted and cared for, and the peasant girl began to care deeply for the dragon and would sneak away from her other duties for a visit. And sometimes she got away with sleeping down there next to the dragon because she…she trusted that he wouldn't hurt her.

"The war ended, the dictator had fallen, and the girl was freed from slavery. She was allowed to leave the castle, but she did not want to leave without making sure her dragon was freed, as well. She sprinted back down into the dungeons and didn't see it anywhere but instead found a boy she had not seen since her school days. He explained to her about the curse, but she was frightened for he had chosen the dark side during the war. The boy told her he loved her and had a change of heart, but she didn't believe him and fled the castle. He ran after her, determined not to let anything else get in the way of capturing the girl's heart. When he caught up to her, he found her in the embrace of another boy and became jealous, leaving the kingdom with a bitter heart.

"A couple of years later, they ran into each other and the girl still found him untrustworthy, but she had not married and was not claimed by any other. He begged she give him a chance but she, too, had turned bitter and callous and hardened herself. She told him she would only grant him one kiss and one kiss only in exchange of never seeing him again. Her words angered him but unable to vanquish his affection for her, he complied and fated himself to their first and only kiss after which she quickly ran away and like she promised, they never saw each other again. The End."

"Mommy?" Alex mumbled sleepily, his eyes closed and his breathing nearly even.

"Yes, Button?"

"It's a sad story."

"I know," she said and kissed his cheek before rolling over and turning off the lamp on the bedside table. "But you wanted to hear it."

Alex didn't respond, a soft snore escaping his nose and after a few mind-numbing thoughts about the day's events and things coming her way, she drifted off.

* * *

Something cold pressed over Hermione's mouth, and her eyes flew open and saw a shadowy figure towering over her. The pressure against her mouth muffled her scream, and she cursed herself for leaving her wand in in the sitting room. Terror coursing through her, she raised her hands at the perpetrator in hopes of clawing at him and fighting him off to protect her son but hesitated when the shadow shushed at her.

"It's only me, Granger," Theodore said.

* * *

**A/N:** So what do you think Theo wants? I know what he wants, but tell me your opinions on the matter if you don't mind.

Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have placed this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to:** **Kou Shun'u, ClamKidToTheRescue, alina290, Angelus Draco, Woemcat, chyaraskiss, hkmac, Aya Diefair, Tenshi Mioko, Klara, meggzy101,and Musette Fujiwara for the reviews.**

I presented you all a long chapter for not being able to post for these past couple of weeks. Tell me your thoughts on it, and don't worry, there will be more Narcissa and Lucius vs. Hermione. We've only scratched the surface of what's to come, so please be patient.

Read and Review and everyone have a spectacular day.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N:** So before anything, I must say that I will be introducing a few characters into this chapter. One of them is my own and the others are from Harry Potter. There will be a bit of a fight, but I would like to say that I want you, my readers, to place yourself in each person's shoe before picking a side. On that note, I absolutely adore my reviewers. :)

**To my reviewers:** You make me smile! And it's not just because of the kind words but because how different all of you are. I love that I'm getting feedback on how Hermione needs to leave England and get away from the Malfoys. I love how people are telling me she needs to stay and be more polite to them or needs to just relax and let Alex get to know his grandparents. Sadly, my reviewers, you will know in time what Hermione will do.

I also love how you, my reviewers, react to certain characters that pop up in the story. Some are all, 'I like them.' And others are all, 'Hate 'em.' I just thought I would put that out there.

Anyway, thank you readers, reviewers, followers, and those who favor this fic.

**Thank you to: 29, hkmac, Angelus Draco, busyhaired-american-nerd, Musette Fujiwara, Andykins, TwinsConspiracy, Bella1999, Aya Diefair, mbclose, Anjali K, Vidocin666, and Analelle for the reviews.**

A lot of you were really close or nearly spot on what Theodore wanted from Hermione, and I guess it wasn't that hard to guess. *shrugs with a grin*

I wanted to write more for this chapter, but it didn't work out that way. I wanted to go into "other things", but it will have to wait for the next update which I will do as soon as possible. I like this chapter, but I suspect that you, my readers, will want more information** stat**. I really do hate leaving the chapter the way I did, but be patient, please. All will be revealed in time. *Smiles nervously*

Please Read and Review and tell me your thoughts! :)

* * *

A ray of light streamed through the small separation of the curtains and landed on Alex's face. Sniffing and smacking his lips together, he groaned and turned onto his side, facing away from the window and reaching a hand out for his mother. Eyes still closed he, he frowned in his sleep and moved his arm around, hoping to come in contact with her.

"Mommy?" he groggily called out and slit his eyes open. Blinking them awake, he lifted his head and stared at the empty spot where his mother should be. The space was empty, so he checked the bathroom door which was open, revealing the darkness inside.

"Mommy?" he called for her again and slid out of bed. The bedroom door was closed, so he opened it and padded out the room, his bare feet making soft smacking sounds against the marble flooring of the hallway. He popped his head into the vacant sitting room and saw his mother's purse on the coffee table. Walking over to it, he stuck his hand into it, feeling around for her wand, quickly coming to the conclusion it was gone and so was she.

The dining area was empty, as well, and when he crawled up on one of the chairs to snag an apple from the fruit bowl, Mr. Zabini's house-elf walked through the kitchen door and bowed at him.

"Does Master's guest want breakfast? Glibby can make Master's guest breakfast."

Cupping the apple in his small hands, Alex gnawed on is bottom lip and then asked, "Do you know where my mom is?"

Glippy teetered back and forth on the balls of his heels and shook his head. "Glibby does not know where Master's other guest went, but Glibby did hear someone use the Floo in the night."

Alex's frown deepened, and his hunger waned away. He placed the apple back in the bowl and asked Glibby another question. "Do you know if Mr. Zabini knows where my mom is? Can you go ask him?"

"Master is very grouchy in the morning, but Glippy will go ask Master where Guest's mother went."

The elf disappeared with a pop and though his hunger was diminishing, he was thirsty. He tiptoed into through the swinging kitchen door and looked around and found another house-elf inside who was polishing glass-wear while standing on a large stool.

"Hello," Alex said to her and the elf squeaked and nearly dropped the fancy goblet. The elf turned around with wide eyes and then smiled when seeing the boy.

"You must be Master's guest and Master's best friend's son." The elf bowed and set the goblet aside and hopped down from the stool. "Is there anything Franny can do for Master's guest?"

In a small voice, Alex inquired, "May I have some chocolate milk, please?"

Franny nodded jovially. "Master's guest can go to the table and wait. Franny will serve soon."

Alex went back to the table and soon a tall glass chocolate milk was placed in front of him. He smiled gratefully at the house-elf and said, "Thank you, Franny."

The elf beamed at him and replied, "Master's guest is kind. Franny like's Master's guest."

She vanished back into the kitchen, leaving Alex to sip on his milk. Franny had even given him a big swirly straw to suck up the sweet liquid. When he had drunk near a quarter of the concoction, Mr. Zabini came scampering into the kitchen in his nightwear looking panicked, Glibby tailing him from behind.

"Gone? What do you mean she's bloody gone? _Where the bloody hell is she?!_"

Alex abandoned his chocolate milk, his heart sinking low in his stomach at the man's words.

"You don't know where my mom is?" he gasped out and leapt from his chair to run towards him.

"Where could she have gone?" Blaise asked himself, rubbing his face. "Why would she go anywhere? Alex," he knelt to look the boy in the eye. "Did you hear your mum leave in the night?"

"No." He shook his head, a stinging sensation poking at his eyes. He sniffled and choked out, "I want my mom."

"She couldn't have gone far," Blaise lied. The woman could be on the other side of the world if she wanted to be, but Alex was still here and she'd never leave him. This worried him. Even if she left during the night for whatever reason, she would have been sure to return by morning.

"Glibby, you said you heard the Floo last night, correct?" he asked his house-elf.

"Glibby heard it, Master. Glibby heard it twice."

"Twice?" That hardly made sense. The Floo only ignited if someone left from it or entered…

"Alex, do you think your mum has her wand?" he asked gently, cupping the weeping boy's shoulder.

"I think so. It's not in her purse."

"Her purse? It's still here?"

Alex nodded. "It's on the coffee table."

"_Accio_ Hermione's wand," Blaise said, pulling out his own wand from his shirt pocket. Nothing happened and was only relieved in the slightest. He was almost sure someone Floo-ed to his flat during the night and then left with Hermione.

In his mind, he unearthed the list of those able to penetrate his wards. He got to the middle of the list and stilled when hearing an all too familiar shrill coming from the sitting room. Alex froze as well and wrapped his arms around Blaise's leg for protection.

"What was that?" the boy whispered. "It sounded awful."

"Just…don't say anything," Blaise ordered through his teeth.

"K," the boy agreed, wondering if something bad or scary was going to happen. He heard footsteps marching towards the corner and saw a woman come around it. For a moment, he almost thought she was his mother, but her brown hair was straight as uncooked spaghetti noodles and she was a bit skinnier. She also had angry blue eyes pinned threateningly on Blaise.

"Daphne?" croaked the man. "What brings you here so early this morning?"

"Blaise," she said in an eerily soft voice, almost melodic. "Where's Theodore?"

"Theo? He's not home?"

"No!" she bellowed, her hands tightening into fists and then immediately relaxed them. Her voice then switched back to the calm, music like tone. "He's not. I woke up this morning, and he was gone. I assumed he was here. He's _always_ here."

"He's not _always _here," argued Blaise and gulped when her nostrils flared, and her lightly freckled nose and cheeks rouged.

"Yes he is! It's like he doesn't bloody care that we're getting married!" she wailed and rested against the wall to her right, breathing erratically.

"Daphne," cooed Blaise. "It's Theo, love. Of course he doesn't care."

"I hate you!" she spat. "And I demand you tell me where he is this instant or I will-" She halted in mid-threat when the boy wrapped around Blaise's leg caught her attention. Her eyelids flew back into her skull and her perfectly shaped brows disappeared into her well-groomed hairline.

Like Blaise, Alex gulped when the angry lady noticed him. She was really pretty like his mommy, but she made noises he never heard come from any other human being. He debated whether to say hello or introduce himself, but Blaise had told him not to say anything, so he chose to stay silent.

"Blaise," she whispered out so quietly, it was almost impossible to hear. "Is _that_ who I think it is?"

"Before you start jumping to conclusions-"

"Where's his mother?!" she bellowed and started pacing around in a circle. "Where is she, Blaise?! I have words to say to that woman!"

"Now Daphne-"

"Don't you 'now Daphne' me, Blaise Zabini! If _he's_ here," she pointed at Alex, "then she's here, too. I want to speak with her right now! I want her to know the grief she has caused my sister! As if it wasn't tragic enough that Draco died, Astoria has to deal with this! Do you have any idea how mortifying this is for her? This devastated her, Blaise. This broke her heart. Reporters swarmed her front yard Sunday morning asking what her thoughts were on the situation. She had _no_ idea! None! She hadn't even read the paper yet!"

"Don't be rash. This isn't Hermione's fault," Blaise told her firmly and the girl visibly flinched at the woman's name.

"Don't say that name! It's cursed and now I know why! That…"

"Choose your words carefully, Daphne," Blaise warned and placed a hand on Alex's head. "There is a child present, and the child belongs to her." He paused and then reminded. "He's also Draco's."

"If _he_ were here," she seethed. "I'd lock him in a room with my father."

Alex wished he wasn't present. He hated seeing grownups yell and say mean things to each other. It reminded him of the unpleasant memories of when his dad came and visited. He and his mom had always screamed at one another and called each other bad words.

He also was kind of glad his mom wasn't here. This Daphne lady seemed to not like her, and she was mentioning her sister Astoria and that was the girl Daddy told him he was going to marry because Mom kept telling him no. His father had informed him of the situation last Christmas in their hotel room when they went to Disneyland, and Alex was concerned. He had heard the horrid tales of stepmothers and asked if the Astoria lady would like him. His father hadn't really answered the question but told him not worry about it. Alex then asked if that meant his mom was going to marry another man, too. His father's jaw had twitched like it always had when he became aggravated and glared at his mom's back. She was out on the balcony smoking, facing the California sunset. The sliding door was closed, but he could tell from her stuttering shoulders she was crying.

"_No, Scorpius_," he had grumbled and rubbed his face. _"That doesn't mean your mum will be getting married, too."_

"_Why is she sad, Daddy?" _he had asked.

"_Because she chooses to be."_ His words had come out bitter and almost mockingly, and Alex decided not to ask any more questions. He didn't understand grownups, not his mother and not even his father. He didn't understand why anybody would choose to be sad when they didn't have to be. He didn't understand why his father was going to marry a woman who wasn't his mother, but he had friends who were in a similar situation. Nathaniel's mother wasn't even allowed (for some reason) to be in the same state as Nathaniel. Micah's mom and dad divorced a couple of years ago, and now he saw his dad only on weekends and holidays.

"I get that you're angry," Blaise said to Daphne and Alex reluctantly turned his attention back to them. Maybe he should hide back in the bedroom until the fight ends.

"May I at least speak to…Miss Granger?" She flinched again. "I promise to behave myself."

"She's not here," admitted Blaise and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know where she is actually, but I'm sure she'll be here soon. With Alex here, she wouldn't have…Wait. Theodore isn't at home, you said?"

* * *

A shiver wracked through Hermione's form, and she curled herself tighter into a ball, burying as much of herself into the soft fabric beneath her as she could. Her chin began to tremble, and her teeth clicked together. Frowning, she sucked in a breath, awoke, and soaked in the gunmetal comforter of Draco's bed. Gasping in alarm, she bolted up and found herself lying across his mattress, her head and feet facing the wrong edges.

Quietly, she slid off the bed and shuffled over to Draco's hidden nook and waved her wand at the pensieve, watching it float back into the wall. The stoneware closed in front of it hiding the nook from view. Fleeing to the bathroom, she washed her face with hot water to rid the skin of the all the salt shed a few hours before. She then patted her face dry with a towel and exited the loo, ignoring the body unconscious on the daybed not far from the fireplace.

There was a ceramic bowl on the mantle of the fireplace filled with Floo powder. Stealing a pinch, she stepped into the smoldering ashes and announced, "Blaise's flat," and tossed it to her feet. She went shooting upwards and caught glimpses of other house's sitting room before arriving at Blaise's. Coughing, she stepped out and brushed the soot off her coat, pausing when she heard yelling. It sounded like it was coming from a woman.

"If _he_ were here, I'd lock him in a room with my father!" shouted the woman.

"I get that you're angry," she heard Blaise say.

"May I at least speak to…Miss Granger?" asked the woman and Hermione contorted her brow and slowly walked towards the conversation.

"She's not here. I don't know where she is actually, but I'm sure she'll be here soon. With Alex here, she wouldn't have…Wait. Theodore isn't at home, you said?"

"No, he isn't."

Hermione turned the corner and stopped abruptly when nearly colliding with a woman's back. Awkwardly, she stumbled backwards and caught her balance, drawing attention to herself.

"Mom," shouted Alex and he madly dashed towards her, wrapping his arms around her legs. He gazed up at her and asked, "Where were you?"

"I…" She paused, debating what to tell him. "Well…" The woman in front of her turned around and was distracted her enough to ask, "Who are you?"

The woman was about her height with similar colored hair and had raging blue eyes. Her mouth morphed into an unattractive sneer and she answered, "Daphne Greengrass, Miss Granger. I'm Astoria's older sister. You've heard of Astoria Greengrass, right? The woman's life you ruined!"

"Oh," was all that Hermione could manage and in a barely audible whisper. Opening her mouth and then snapping it shut, she cast her gaze down at her son. "Sweetheart, go have a bath and start getting ready for the day."

"Where were you?" he asked, not budging.

"I'll tell you later, but you need to get washed up. I'll come check on you soon."

Alex pouted up at her and stalked towards the hallway and disappeared around the corner. He didn't want to leave his mom, but everyone seemed upset this morning, especially that Daphne lady. She seemed angry with his mom for some reason, and that didn't settle well with him. Why was everyone always angry with his mom? Dad made him think she brought it upon herself, but that couldn't _always_ be right. No one wanted to be disliked all the time.

When reaching the threshold of his room, he paused when hearing two people talking. It sounded like men. He turned around and looked at the closed door directly across the hallway. Funny, he didn't know Blaise had other guests, so out of curiosity Alex tiptoed towards the door and pressed his ear against the ivory painted wood.

"…hasn't talked to me in days…"

"…hiding something or other…"

"…you think that maybe…"

"….don't know what to think, Michel."

"There are toes sticking out from underneath the door!"

Alex gasped and stared down at his foot that managed to slip its toes underneath the sill. Frightened, his heart thudded against his chest as he yanked his left foot away. He was about to run across the hallway and back into his room when heard one of the voices address him, "Who's there?"

The other voice said slowly and pensively, "I think it's a child."

"Child!" called the first voice. "Child, come here!"

Alex wasn't going to submit to a tone like that. He scowled at the door and took a step back.

"Perhaps you should be gentler," the second voice suggested nasally and crisply. "Child, do come in."

The boy knew he better obey his mother's order and go bathe and ready himself for the day. He had to return to Daddy's manor in a few hours. Despite those commands, though, he cupped the golden doorknob and opened the door. It creaked as he stepped into the room that was more of an office space than a bedroom. There was a daybed next to an enchanted window overlooking a field of wild flowers and a warm sun. A mahogany desk was placed next to the opposite wall on his right and two portraits were hung side-by-side on the far wall. They were of two men and one looked very much like Daddy's friend, Mr. Zabini. The other looked kind of spooky with black hair and sallow skin.

"Hello," he greeted, breaking the silence.

The one like Mr. Zabini arched an eyebrow and smiled handsomely, replying in a thick Italian accent, "Hello."

The other man in the portrait said nothing, but his black eyes narrowed and his hooked nose flared in suspicion.

"My name is Alex," he introduced himself and walked farther into the room, feeling it safe that two painted men weren't going to be capable of causing him any trouble.

"Hello Alexander. My name is Michaelo Zabini. I assume you know my son," said the black man in the portrait. The man gestured to the neighboring portrait and stated, "This is Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts and Potions professor. He taught your host when he was a lad." Slitting his dark, glinting eyes, he cocked his head and added, "He taught your father, as well."

* * *

"I understand you must be upset," said Hermione to Daphne, the woman snorting in antipathy.

"Upset is how you get when your best friend is late for tea. I am furious!"

"Calm down," Blaise pleaded and rubbed his forehead. "You have no reason to be angry with her. She didn't do anything wrong."

"Didn't do anything wrong?!" Daphne cackled and leaned against the wall for support. "Didn't do anything wrong?!"

"I didn't," declared Hermione, her arms crossing in defiance. "I'm as much of a victim to the paparazzi as your sister."

"A victim, Miss Granger? No." Daphne shook her head. "What you are is a whore."

"Daphne!" admonished Blaise and the woman gave him a dirty look.

"Well, she is. She obviously seduced Draco for his money and-"

"How dare you?!" Hermione barked, stepping closer to the woman, getting into her face. "You don't know anything about me! You don't know my life at all!"

"All that anyone needs to know is that you're a whore. A home-wrecking whore."

Hermione advanced on her but was blocked by Blaise. His back was to her, so that he faced Daphne. "Why don't you go find Theo? Go find him and cool off."

"I'm going to my sister's," Daphne informed tartly and marched around the corner and into the sitting room. Both Blaise and Hermione heard the Floo ignite, indicating that she left.

Hermione let out the breath she had held to stifle her temper, and Blaise turned around to face her, annoyance plain on his face.

"Where the hell were you?" he hissed. "Do you have any idea-"

"Theodore came to me last night," she rushed out and before she could conclude the explanation, Blaise cut in. "He _what_?!"

"Not like that," she denied. "He came to me last night and told me I needed to see something."

"What did he need to show you?" Blaise asked in a slow and careful voice

Not answering right away, Hermione walked the few feet away from Blaise to the dining table and sit down, sparing a look at the forgotten and forlorn looking chocolate milk."Yesterday when Theodore showed me that memory of Draco dying, he took me to his room. There is a pensieve in there with perhaps twenty or more memories. Theodore tried tempting me into seeing one of them, but I refused. When he came to me during the night, he told me he had peeked in on a memory. It was one that had been left in the pensieve. This memory had been _the last_ one Draco ever reflected on. He told me I needed to see it because I was in it."

"So you obviously went," Blaise said in detest. "Other's memories aren't meant to be fiddled with, Granger. Those were Draco's, and you had no business-"

"That's what I thought, too," she interjected sharply. "Right up until I saw it. I had _every_ right to see that memory, Blaise. It was about me. It was about us. Me and Draco. But I'm sorry I wasn't here when Alex woke up, but I'm fine and he's fine. Now if you will please excuse me, I have to get ready for another day in hell." She got up from the table and went to leave but Blaise grabbed ahold of her arm. She looked at his hand and then at him and demanded evenly, "Let me go."

"Did…Did he try…anything?"

"Pardon?"

"Theo. Did he do anything…to you?"

Put off by the question, Hermione regarded him carefully and then answered, "He tried to steal my cigarettes from out of my pocket if that's what you mean."

"It's not."

Confusion buzzed in Hermione's mind, and she wondered why Blaise was acting wary. It was just Theodore, not that she trusted him. She trusted he was a lazy, inconsiderate ponce and nothing more.

"Well, he didn't _try_ anything with the exception of what I just told you. Why? Do you think he would? Because I highly doubt that."

Blaise gave her a dubious stare. "Will you be seeing him again?"

Hermione scoffed in response. "I hadn't planned on it. I only saw him yesterday because you brought him to the Manor as _reinforcement_. Then he was the one to seek me out for something I needed to see. I'm not entirely sure what you're getting at, but I'm going to say it's not _that_. In case you haven't noticed, this is not a social visit, me being in England."

There was still uneasiness etched in Blaise's features, and Hermione had the distinct feeling he was debating whether to tell her something about Theodore. She shirked her cloak and draped it over the back of the kitchen chair and rubbed a sore spot on the back of her neck, having slept in a weird position on Draco's bed. Biting her lip, thoughts began to run around in her mind which stopped after a few moments when realizing what bothered the man in front of her.

"I…had no idea," she told him and started ringing her hands. "In school, he never…"

"Neither did Draco, Granger."

"Regardless of what…feelings…Theodore may or may not harbor for me, Blaise," Hermione hesitantly said. "I'm not in the least bit flattered or worried over it. He's engaged, and I'm a mess." With that said, she left the kitchen and wandered down the hallway and into the bedroom and heard the shower running in the bathroom.

After a few minutes, the running water stopped and Alex came out with wet blond curls plastered to his head, a huge fluffy blue towel engulfing his little body.

"Hi Mommy," he said and the remnants of anger caused by Daphne dissipated completely when Hermione saw his round pink face. Sometimes when she looked at him, it was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

"Hi Button." She dropped down to her knees and hugged him, murmuring, "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

"It's okay," he mumbled into her shoulder and then briefly kissed on his damp cheek. "But Mommy?"

"Yes?" Hermione stayed on bended knee to massage the towel over Alex, so he would dry faster.

"Were you really a Miss-Know-It-All in school?"

Halting her ministrations, Hermione stared inquisitively at her son. "Pardon?"

"Were you really a Miss-Know-It-All? Like you knew everything and annoyed people and stuff. Is that true?"

"Who told you that? Was it Blaise? Did he tell you about Mummy's school days?" she asked in a strained, panicked tone. If Blaise had told her son those things, what else did he tell Alex?

Much to her surprise, her son shook his head. "No."

"He didn't? If he didn't, who did?"

The boy chomped on his bottom lip indecisively and shrugged. "Somebody."

"Scorpius Alexander," she warned bemusedly, and he gulped with wide eyes.

"Okay, okay. It was Mr. Snape."

To be continued...


	40. Chapter 40

"Mr. Snape?" Hermione pursed her lips and her vision narrowed. Professor Snape was dead, having died by Nagini years ago. How Alex even knew about the man was a mystery. She never talked about her old teachers with him but maybe Draco had.

"Alex, did your father tell you about Mr. Snape?" she asked and the boy shook his head no.

"No, but Mr. Snape said he taught Daddy, too. He said that Daddy was really good at Potions, and I told him that you were better, and then he rolled his eyes and sniffed."

Hermione studied her son, attempting to detect lies but concluded he was honest with her. Alex had actually talked to Professor Snape and since that was the case then…

"Where's his portrait, Sweetheart?" she questioned and he pointed at the bedroom door.

"Across the hallway. He's placed next to Mr. Zabini's dad. Are you going to go talk to him?"

A soft, dry chuckle escaped her lips at the prospect of her going to have a chat with her old Potions professor who had disliked her with a flammable passion. Though on some level she respected him for sacrificing his life for the war and for Draco, there was really nothing she had to say to him. She imagined her younger self badgering him with questions, and cringed at the image. Yes, she had been quite irritating as a teenager.

"No, I am not going to speak with him, but…" she brought some of Alex's towel over his head to scrunch the water out of his hair, "I don't want you to speak with him again. Is that clear?"

Alex popped his head out from under the towel and tossed her a brokenhearted mask, his grey eyes wide and bottom lip threatening.

"Mommy, he was Daddy's Godfather. He told me he was and knows about Daddy's childhood. Mr. Snape said that I look almost exactly like Daddy did at eight years old, and that I need to start being tutored in Potions right away, so I can be the best when I go to Hogwarts. But I didn't know I was going to Hogwarts. You said I was going to stay in Salem. He then told me about all the Houses in Hogwarts and said that Daddy was a Slytherin and all Malfoys were Slytherin. He said it would be practical for me to be one, too. And _then _he said that you were a Gryffindor and a troublemaker and when I go to Hogwarts, I should choose my friends wisely."

The back molars in Hermione's mouth snapped together with an audible click, and she breathed in deeply, the clean scent of Alex doing very little in calming her temper. Patting him on the cheek, she stood to her feet and said, "Get dressed and go have some breakfast."

"Can we have biscuits and gravy for breakfast?"

"Probably," answered Hermione and padded him on the head. "I'm going to get ready, and then we'll do something with your hair."

His bottom lip jiggled up at her manipulatively. "Can I please talk to Mr. Snape again?"

"No." She bent down a pecked him on the cheek and gave his bottom a playful swat before entering the bathroom and closing the door.

The guest bathroom was exuberantly lavish like Draco's at the manor but not as large. It was probably half the size, but Hermione didn't mind. She bent over the tub and twisted the taps on: one for perfectly warmed water and the other for muscle soothing ointments and bubbles. The pain in her neck from sleeping wrong on Draco's bed had travelled down her spine and new knots bubbled in her back muscles.

Trousers, sweater, shoes, and undergarments lay forgotten on the tile floor as she climbed over the edge of the tub and sank into the steaming, foaming water. It felt positively amazing, and she sighed contently for a moment, gifting herself a moment a peace before rehashing the last few hours in her mind.

Her head rested against the built-in support of the tub, and she contemplated having a bath like this installed in her house back in Salem. It was utterly perfect how the water and potions were uncoiling the tenseness of her body.

Her eyes drifted shut and rehashed what happened during the night when Theodore had coaxed her out of bed.

"_What the hell are you doing?" she hissed at him after pulling his hand away from her mouth. "Have you lost your mind?"_

"_Come with me. You need to see this," he said calmly._

_Gawking at his shadow and how unconcerned he was about sneaking into her bedroom and scaring the living daylights out of her, she murmured "You have lost your mind. I'm not going anywhere, you weirdo. You don't just come galloping into someone's bedroom and night."_

"_I don't gallop."_

"_You know what I mean."_

_Theodore was silent for a moment before admitting, "I looked at the memory. I had to know, Granger. I had to know, and you were right. It wasn't my business, but it is yours. You're in it, and you need to see it."_

_Her chest constricted painfully at his words, and she covered her face with her hands. Gods, she was in the memory and dreaded which one it was. There were so many bad ones but hoped the last one Draco reflected on was good. Maybe it was of when Alex was still a baby. Perhaps on his second birthday where Alex clobbered his birthday cake and happily smeared his little hands all over his father's face. Draco had done his best keeping his temper leveled and had silently handed Hermione the baby and went to wash himself off. She told Draco if he waited for her to wash up Alex, then she would clean him up with her tongue._

_Flushing at the memory, she glared at Theodore in the dark, upset he saw things meant for only her and Draco._

"_You shouldn't have seen it," she said reprovingly._

"_Doesn't matter now. Come with me. You need to see the memory."_

"_Theodore, I-"_

"_I don't pretend to know everything about yours and Draco's relationship or what have you, but I know you need to see this one memory. Granger, if you only knew."_

"_Now isn't a good time," she pleaded, fearing what the memory may hold. "Another time. I can't."_

"_You must."_

_Her eyes burned from unshed tears, and her face felt hot. "If it's so bleedin' important, then just tell me what it is. If I'm in the memory, then I have one, too."_

_Stonily, he responded, "Stop being stubborn," and grabbed her hand and yanked at her arm and with little trouble he hoisted her out of bed. "I'll give you a few minutes to dress. I'll be in the sitting room."_

_He let go of her hand and walked out of the room, leaving her to sink back down on the mattress, gulping deep breaths. She heard Alex murmur next to her, and she turned over and leaned down to kiss him on his forehead._

"_I'll be back soon, Button," she whispered and abandoned the bed, quickly dressing into a pair of trousers and a sweater before slipping into a cloak._

_Theodore was plopped on Blaise's couch, and she snatched her wand from her purse. He stood up and walked over to the fireplace and snagged a pinch of Floo powder from the holder on the mantle. _

"_Are you ready?" he asked._

"_No." She grabbed a pinch, as well, waiting for him to Floo away. Green flames engulfed him and he disappeared, and she fancied the idea of neutralizing Blaise's fireplace and returning to bed but shirked the thought and stepped inside._

_Draco's room was darker than it had been the day before, and she nearly yelped when feeling a frigid hand grip around her fingers._

"_Shh," he hushed and led her out of the fireplace which ignited with real flames the moment she stepped into the room. They casted a warm glow on the room, causing both of their shadows to resemble gargantuan monsters on the stone walls. It was starkly gothic looking; Hermione nearly expected some sort of undead creature to appear out of nowhere and attack them._

_They stopped at the pensieve which was out and ready, and Theodore gestured to it. "It's in there."_

_Her fingers cupped the basin's rims loosely, and she craned her head to face him, her voice quiet and raspy. "Is it bad?"_

_Theodore said nothing but stood eerily a few feet away, and Hermione decided the light of flame wasn't a good look for him. Though he was anything but hideous, he was exceptionally unnerving with the dark shadows painted over his eyelids, resembling his father uncannily, who she had caught a glimpse of at in the Department of Mysteries before being _Stunned_ by the man. With his long black cloak on, he could have been a Death Eater, and she wondered if he had been or ever wanted to be._

"_Are you going to look or not?" he jibed and she turned to face the pensieve again, lowering her face into the misty substance and like before was turned into an ink drop submerging and spreading into a glass of water. She expanded and found herself sharing an elevator with Draco and quickly realized it was the same one from her old apartment complex._

_He looked tired in his suit coat, his shoulders slumped. His head was tilted backwards, and his eyes were closed._

_The elevator dinged to a stop, and he opened his eyes and walked out into the hallway with her behind him. He came to the door of her old flat. He inserted his key into the doorknob and entered into the unlit area, shedding his coat and putting it on the coatrack. He then flicked the switch on the wall and the light above him turned on. She watched him slip his hand into the pocket of his discarded coat and pulled out a small, velvety black cube._

"_Oh no," Hermione whispered to herself, knowing which memory this was. This was the memory of Easter 2007. _

_Unwillingly, she followed him down the hall to the master bedroom. The door was left ajar, so he carefully pushed it further open, not wanting it to creak. He shuffled closer to the bed, and Hermione could make out her sleeping form underneath the covers. Her past self was turned away from Draco and towards the window, completely unaware of the man removing his clothing. He was stripped down to his black boxers when he scurried around the bed and gently took her past self's left hand and slipped something sparkling on her ring finger. He then brought the back of her hand to his lips and sensually caressed the skin with them._

"_I love you so much, Granger," he huskily whispered down to her, but the younger Hermione did not stir, not even when he climbed onto the bed and joined her between the sheets._

_For a long while, he simply lay there and stared at her with his head propped up by the support of his elbow. When he grew bored, his hand touched her shoulder and stroked the bits of exposed skin and then vanished beneath the blankets._

_Hermione blushed in humiliation at remembering Theodore had seen this and tempted the idea of tearing out of the memory and hexing his eyeballs out of his head for being a pervert, but a deep, sleepy moan stopped her. She gawked as her memory self rolled onto her back, arching and writhing underneath the duvet from what Draco was doing to her. A wicked smirk was plastered on his face, soaking in the effects of his ministrations on her unconscious body._

_When he dove underneath the sheets, Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she whirled around, covering her eyes in mortification. She was most certainly going to kill Theodore when she was done with this, and when a pleasured-filled groan echoed through the room, the 'most certainly' was a gross understatement._

_Facing the wall, Hermione heard her younger self trying to catch her breath and chanced a look over her shoulder and nope! Draco was still underneath the sheets, and keening sounds were beginning to escalate once more until a screech louder than before blasted and then…_

"_Draco, you pervert! If Alex wakes up, I'm going to MMMPH!"_

_Hermione bucked up some courage and spun back around and watched as Draco molested her memory's mouth, an ache clenching at her heart and womb. Merlin, how she missed him and wished she could kiss him like that again._

"_Draco, we mustn't," her memory had moaned into his mouth and then flicked her tongue out to meet his while her nails clawed at his shoulders and back._

"_Why the bloody hell not?" he purred and nipped at her memory's mouth, and Hermione messaged her forehead when seeing her knickers come flying out from beneath the duvet and landing by her feet._

"_I'm not on the potion anymore."_

_Draco paused and lifted his lips from hers, his voice marginally higher than normal when saying, "Is that right?"_

"_Fairie Pox is going around, and my healer prescribed me potions, so I wouldn't catch it. The potion neutralizes Contraceptive Potions, so I decided to go off them for a little while. Draco, I don't think we should make love."_

"_Are you effing serious? Not shag? Darling, what are the odds of you actually conceiving?"_

"_The same odds we had when conceiving Alex. And well…I suppose we could try the Contraceptive Charm. I'll cast it of course since you utterly botched it last time, but it will throw off my cycle for a few months. Not that it actually matters, it's just not safe."_

"_Regrets, love?" Draco inquired in amusement._

_Hermione watched as her hand had reached up and cupped Draco's face, adoration in her eyes and love in her touch. Memory Hermione shook her head and whispered, "Alex is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and you gave him to me. Malfoy, I love you so…What the hell is that?!" She had brought her left hand close to her eyes and hissed again, "What the hell is that? Is that a ring? It is! Draco, what have I told you-"_

"_I couldn't give a damn what you told me, Granger. This charade is over. You're marrying me and that's soddin' final. I'll give you until my next visit in November to tie things up here, but I expect you ready to come back to England. Say yes, Granger. I'm not doing this anymore. I refuse to hide this any longer. I can't imagine my life with anyone else, and you'd be lying to me if you said you imagine yourself with someone else. I'm it for you and you bloody well know it, you blasted harpy. You need to accept that, not just for you but for Scorpius."_

"_Alex is dandy here in Salem, and how dare you tell me what to do you, you unbelievable prat!" _

"_Darling, you know how I get when you speak to me that way. It gets me all-"_

"_Yes, I can_ feel_ your reaction, sicko."_

_Draco chucked throatily and nipped playfully at her lips before saying, "Let's shag."_

"_I thought it was clear we weren't going to. We don't have proper protection aside from a faulty Charm."_

_Biting at her lips again and then at her jawline, he whispered, "Let's do it anyway."_

_A strangled gasped escaped her throat and she stammered, "I-I don't want to get pregnant."_

_After few moments of silence between them, Draco replied, "Why not? Don't you want another baby?"_

"_I have a baby, Draco, and I can't believe what you're saying. You couldn't possibly want another."_

"_You have a four year old. He's not a baby. He's going to be a man before you know it."_

"_Don't say that!"_

"_And as for it being impossible for me wanting another moppet. Let me clarify; I want one with you, thus, the ring on your finger. Wouldn't a little girl be a perfect wedding present to the both of us?"_

"_Little girl?" squeaked Hermione and squirmed beneath Draco as if to get away from him. "You've gone around the twist, you have. Malfoys can't have girls, remember? And we're not having another child, so you better hush if you want to have a go tonight. I've just remembered." She wriggled underneath Draco and opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a white cylinder candle the size of a soup can. "I was talking about my lack of contraceptives with a friend, and she suggested this."_

"_Codswallop, Granger," Draco muttered as she lit the candle and set it on the table. "Are we at least going to discuss the wedding?"_

_Hermione shook her head and cupped Draco's face again, leaning up to brush her lips against his. "I'm flattered but the answer is no. It always has been."_

"_You should know now that we are far past the stage of our relationship falling apart. We've been together for years and are still together. I think it's safe to say that-"_

"_It's not about how long we've been together." Hermione shifted beneath him to sit up and lean her back against the headboard. "It's not like I still think you're going to find someone else or that I will. You _know_ what this is about. You know why I won't marry you. I can't go back to England. I can't have Alex around your parents. I don't trust them, and you can scream at me until you're blue in the face about how I shouldn't be wary of them, but I will do what is best for him."_

"_I have a say, too. I'm his father," Draco stated edgily._

_Hermione glared at him and then exhaled with a roll of her eyes. "You realize that I cannot force you to do anything. I once told you that I preferred you not to speak with your parents about Alex and me. I will say it again. Nothing but my displeasure is keeping you from telling them."_

"_I would rather have you be in favor of it when I do."_

_Her arms folded and she narrowed her focus on him. "You would rather continue to live this secret a few days out of the year instead of facing my displeasure? Are you sure you're not frightened at the prospect of your parents knowing? Do you think if I came with you right now, Alex in tow, it would soften the blow? Would their anger lessen from their illegitimate grandchild they never knew about? Their _Half-blood _grandchild at that? I dare say, they would be furious, but who am I to assume? They're not _my _parents."_

"_Yes, Scorpius' presence would lighten the load. I'm not denying that, Granger. My mum has hinted that she wants me to start looking for wife. She wants grandchildren, and she has one and can't even enjoy him. She'd love him because he's mine. I won't lie, his Blood Status won't thrill her, but she'd accept him due to his resemblance of me. And if she saw…if she saw that you were pregnant again, she'd know I wasn't fooling around. I want you as my wife, Granger. Am I not worth the trouble?"_

"_Damn you," she hissed and shoved at his shoulders. "What about your father, huh? If Alex's lack of purity won't thrill your mum, I can't imagine what it would do to your father. He'd disown you."_

"_Either that or give me the whipping of my life." Draco tried to lighten the mood with the jesting comment but did nothing to soothe Hermione's anxiety._

_As the older Hermione stood against the wall, she remembered feeling almost like Draco finally cracked her tenacity. Like if prodded further, he'd have persuaded her to come back to England. Never before had he given her a ring, for it had always been proposals or demands they should marry._

_She watched her younger self study the ring with wistfulness in her eyes but a frown on her lips._

"_It's pretty. Where'd you get it?"_

_Draco's hands framed her face and he rubbed his forehead against hers. He whispered back against her lips, "It was my grandmother's. I inherited it when she passed away. It is expected of me to give it to the one I marry."_

"_But-" she rasped but he stopped her rant by smashing their lips together. He moaned into her mouth and pulled her downwards so she was lying on her back once again. His lips drifted to her cheek, chin, jaw and then neck as his hands disappeared underneath the duvet._

_Hermione watched them move and bounce and gasp and groan for what seemed like hours and then exhaled in relief when they started to tire. A sweaty, smiling Draco brushed his lips across her memory's ones and inquired, "One more time before turning in?"_

_She was already drifting, her eyelashes nearly tickling her cheekbones yet she nodded her consent and slowly Draco lifted his arm out from under the duvet and stretched it towards the lit candle, twitching his finger near the flame, vanquishing it._

_Having no recollection of this at all due to being in a pre-slumber state, Hermione gaped at what Draco had done and covered her mouth to distort a scream._

"_You bastard," she managed to wheeze. "You did it on purpose and all this time I thought…" She covered her face and ran out of the room, feeling the sensation of being pulled upwards and out of the memory._

_Using the support of the basin rims of the pensieve, she stood on vibrating legs as irate tears spilled down her cheeks. Once she found her balance, she covered her eyes and let out a growling "Guh!" and went to step back when feeling Theodore behind her. Scowling, she craned her head and found that he was staring down at her with a somewhat sheepish expression. It was when she discovered that his hand was shoved into her cloak pocket where she kept her cigarettes._

_Sniffling disgustingly, she wrapped her hand around his forearm and yanked the hand out of her pocket and croaked, "Those are mine."_

_He calmly withdrew his hand and placed it into his own pocket and said, "You should've treated him better."_

_Already touchy from the overload she had just peeped upon, she shouted, "It is really none of your business how I treated him. In fact, if he were here right now, I'd hex his sorry pathetic arse."_

"_No you wouldn't," he called her bluff, smirking. "But now you saw how much he wanted you. He wanted to marry you and have more children. Can't imagine why? You're such a jumped up harpy, but for some reason he wanted you, and you never appreciated him. That's what you needed to see."_

"_One memory and you think you have it all figured out," she cried and shot him a look of pure disdain, flying towards the bed resting against it. "You have no idea, and maybe I did need to see that memory, but you certainly had no right. Those were private things!"_

"_If it makes you feel any better, I faced the wall almost the entire time."_

_Weeping profusely, she snorted at him. "You're such a liar. Leave me alone." Without thinking, she climbed onto the bed and curled up facing the pillows, the thick rich sheets of Draco's bed blocking the harsh sounds of her sobs._

"Mommy, breakfast is ready!" called Alex through the door, stirring Hermione out of her musings.

"Go on and eat without me. Mummy will be a while," she said and painstakingly climbed out of the tub, unplugging the drain.

The muscles in her back and neck no longer felt bunched or knotted but her thoughts lay heavy in her brain, causing a sharp headache to develop between her eyes. She rubbed at her forehead while padding towards the glass-cased shower and then opened the door to step in.

Bubbles and ointment from the bath cleared off her skin as she applied body wash and rinsed herself. She then washed her hair and face. The raining of hot water felt lovely, and she pointedly lost herself in the sensation for a few minutes

Once done with that, she stepped out of the shower and donned a fluffy robe she found in the cupboard and towel-dried her hair, leaving it unattractively wild for the time being. The mirror in the bathroom was Charmed to resist fogging, so she was able to see her reflection who kindly told her to do something with those lustrous tresses.

The previous day, she had straightened her hair because she wanted to appear her best when she saw Draco's grave. It sounded silly, but in a way, she wanted to look nice for him even though he couldn't see her or even comment on her physical attributes.

Today, though, she was not going to be paying another visit to the grave. Her grandmother, a _Bible-_loving Christian woman who never knew of her granddaughter's magical abilities, had told Hermione that people were not their bodies. They were their souls. Paying respect to a headstone, a casket, a decaying body was considerate at a funeral and for a little while afterwards. As time goes on, however, it was best to come to terms that the person missed was not in the casket, not in the ground, not even the headstone. The person missed moved on to other things.

Her grandmother had died a year after saying that and had stuck with Hermione. She was not a religious person, having befuddled herself thoroughly with her parent's Christianity and the Magical World's Pagan-coated lifestyle, but she did believe in souls.

Huffing at her reflection, she coated her palms in some special hair cream that cost a pretty dockel back in Salem and smoothed it over her damp curls. She then dried the locks with her wand and then studied her hair to make sure it wasn't too bushy.

She went through the steps of her skincare process like the good former cosmetic saleswoman and then wandered into the bedroom to dress, deciding on a pair of beige trousers and a dark grey sweater. When both pairs of flat boots were zipped, she joined Alex and Blaise for breakfast, smiling uncomfortably at the latter.

"They won't like that you're wearing pants," he told her after swallowing a mouthful of coffee.

"I don't care what they like," she coolly said and widened her eyes at the hot steaming feast of biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, and hash browns appearing in front of her. An elf bowing at her side caught her attention and she said squeakily, "Thanks. This is uh…very nice."

"It's really good, Mom. Just as good as Old Man Johnson's back home," piped Alex, proceeding to shovel food into his mouth. He was almost done with his meal from the looks of it.

"He has quite the appetite," commented Blaise with an affectionate grin. "Must be hitting a growth spurt or getting ready to at least."

"I'm super short," Alex complained, pouting a little before taking a bite of eggs. "I'm the shortest in my year. I'm even shorter than some of those in the year below me. I'm also kind of," he sulked, "chubbier than the other kids, but Mom says I'll grow and Dad said that, too. He said he was kind of short, too, at my age."

"Very true," said Blaise, stroking his chin. "Short for quite some time, actually. There was a time where your mother was taller than him."

"It was only for a couple of years," Hermione told Alex and patted his back gently. "It's not unusual for girls and boys to be the same height up until a certain age. You'll grow, Button. You'll be as tall as Daddy as long as you keep eating your vegetables."

"Daddy didn't eat his vegetables," Alex reminded her with his chin sticking out. "You could never get him to eat all of his dinner when he would visit."

"Your Grandfather Lucius made sure your father ate his fair share of greens, so he would be healthy," Blaise informed the boy.

"Do _you _like vegetables?" Alex pointedly asked.

"Not by themselves. I've come to discover that I tolerate them even more so when they are covered in cheese."

Hermione couldn't help it; she burst out laughing as did Alex, the boy bobbing his head up and down in agreement.

"Which reminds me." Blaise's lips stretched into a grin, thinking it was kind of nice to hear them laughing. "When we're in Italy this weekend, we can attend a wine and cheese party. Grape juice for the moppets, though."

"And for the mothers," Hermione added, cutting her fork into a fluffy, flaky gravy covered biscuit. Her lips wrapped around her fork, and she withheld a moan of delight at the steaming hot, creamy gravy dousing the buttery rusk. She must've been more famished than she thought.

They finished up breakfast, all occupants of the table leaving their plates almost clean and glimmering. Hermione's trousers felt rather tight around the middle, and she suddenly felt awful for eating like a cow. When she was younger with her strict dentist parents, eating healthy had not been such a chore. Thinking about the vegetable conversation earlier, she wondered if maybe she should consult a nutrition- Healer because cheese-covered vegetables sounded like a spectacular idea that needed to be rendered into a squashed state.

Without thinking, she asked Blaise, "Do you think I'm fat?"

* * *

"Must we be here again?" Hermione grumbled when entering the Main Hall in Malfoy Manor via Floo. Blaise and Alex were in front of the fireplace waiting for her.

"It's not so bad, Mom," Alex said and grabbed her hand, and Blaise guided them down a hallway. "I think I'd like to go outside and play in the snow with Rose if she gets to come today."

"I thought you said she was bossy," Hermione said blithely.

"She is but if she's the only eight year old around, then I'll make do." He sighed and squeezed his mother's hand. "Will you stay all the time this time? You can help us make a snowman."

"I'd love to," she said and bent down to kiss his cheek.

"You can help, too," Alex said to Blaise and Hermione snorted at the image of the prestigious, elite Blaise Zabini trekking outside in the snow to build a snowman with a couple of kids.

"I'll think about it," he said which meant in Grownup Language 'no'.

The three turned a corner and entered an open room where Lucius and Narcissa were found sitting at a large rectangular table with Pansy along with four little children and a man, all with ginger hair.

Ron Weasley stood up from the table, wearing a grim yet awkward expression. He swallowed thickly and he spoke out, "Hello, Hermione. Can we talk?"

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to all! Readers, reviewers, followers and those who favor this fic! Thank you especially to those that have brought this fic to the four-hundred review mark. It's exciting for me, and I'm so grateful! *squeals in glee***

** Thank you: MMWillow13, Angelus Draco, hkmac, sweetangelrock, Kou shun'u, EEG, Guest, Dennet, Vidocin666, Musette Fujiwara, Guest, Guest, and meg527 for the reviews. Again, thank you so much for them.**

So for clarification, Astoria did not know about Alex, and Daphne said in the previous chapter that she didn't. In some future chapter, we'll get to know a little bit about Astoria and her relationship with Draco. As for Daphne, I tried to portray her as a protective older sister. I think any loving sister would have acted the way she did with Hermione—irrational and hurt on her sister's behalf. Let's not forget that Slytherins can love, too. According to my pottermore status, I'm in the House of Snakes (But I'm not a Death Eater or Voldemort Sympathizer or a bigot). On that note, I love my sisters very much, and God save their better-halves if they had secret children they purposefully kept hidden because I would show no mercy.

Again, I shall say, that this story is not about who Hermione ends up with at the end. If she does end up with someone, I hope you, my readers, don't take it as a romantic happy ending. The romance in this story is about Draco and Hermione. I know some hope she ends up with Blaise, and now some are probably even considering Theo. I guess I would be lying if I didn't know my readers would assume she'd end up with one or the other. I suppose it's only natural to think that way once a male character is introduced.

Anyway, I apologize for the errors and the lack of Snape in this chapter. We'll see him again, don't worry. But I do hope the memory sufficed. I haven't decided if we'll be seeing more of Draco's memories. Right now, I say no, but I may change my mind.

Enjoy the chapter and tell me your thoughts. Read and review and whatnot! Tell me how you think Ron will be in the next chapter. :)


	41. Chapter 41

It had happened on an evening in late June. Ron had met her at a new place in Diagon Alley called Tea Leaves and Scrolls for tea and sandwiches. They were going to discuss the wedding. He was hoping for early summer of the following year, thinking the late part of May would be a good time. Perhaps early in the morning when the sun rose and the birds chirped. Or perhaps the fall. This fall even. Hermione liked the Harvest season the most. It'd be a little quick, but he didn't mind.

She was late for their date which was unlike her, but Ron instantly forgave her because she had the sad, doe-eyed look she hadn't been able to get rid of since the end of the war.

Hermione finally arrived and hadn't given him much time to talk. He was only able to get in a 'you look nice' when she sat across from him in the booth, her fist outstretched like she wanted to give him something. He offered his palm and the ring he spent most of his reward money from his service in the war fell into it.

"You don't want me," she had stated evenly and lightly caressed his gob-smacked face and then got up from the seat. "I'm leaving."

That was all she had said, and a full thirty seconds had passed before Ron had realized what happened. By that time, though, it was too late. The engagement ring was in his hand, and she was nowhere to be found. He had gone to her flat and found the apartment manager and landowner scratching their heads at the furnished area, overhearing them discussing whether to donate all of Hermione's belongings or sell them because she was gone.

It was literally like she had woken up one morning and decided to leave.

Ron made himself known to the two blokes, told him he was Hermione's friend and would be sorting out everything. They left him standing in the middle of the sitting room in front of Hermione's Magic Muggle Box, and he had no idea where to begin rifling, hastily coming to the conclusion he should start the following day with Ginny in tow.

The first place he went after was to see George. His brother was just closing up shop for the day, getting ready to turn in upstairs in the apartment when he walked in and told him that Hermione left him.

"You're barking," George had told him with a soft snort and started towards the stairs. Ron followed him, shaking his head somberly.

"She's left me this." He pulled out the ring from his pocket and held it up so his brother could see. "And then I went to her flat. She's gone. She didn't even bother to pack. Everything and I mean _everything_ is still there, but I spoke to her landlord and flat manager. She's gone."

The last part came out kind hoarsely due to realizing that Hermione had truly left him. And everyone, for that matter.

George and him Floo-ed to the Burrow where their mother was making dinner in the kitchen. When she saw them arrive, she asked her youngest son if he and Hermione had set a wedding date. Not answering right away, he showed her the ring and said, "I don't think there's going to be a wedding, Mum."

His mother had thrown a right fit, becoming angry with Hermione and wanting to know where that 'little tart' was. When Ron answered he hadn't a clue and told her about Hermione's flat, she then grew worried and her fury deflated into motherly concern, wringing her hands and muttering to herself.

"I'll place a call to Arthur. George," she pointed to her other son, "fetch Ginny and Ron, pay a visit to Harry."

At dinner time, the meal being herb dumpling and beef stew remained untouched by everyone at the table. They tossed him theories about where Hermione could have gone, none of them having got the memo like Ron had.

"She probably just needs time," Harry had offered, scratching at a clean spot on the table. He tossed his focus out the window behind the sink, his jaw ticking.

"She probably went to find her parents. It makes sense if you think about it. She never went looking after…well…she never went looking before. She probably misses them," said Ginny, her eyes staring blankly at the bowl of stew in front of her. Ron wished she'd eat it. His sister looked thin and almost lifeless.

"Hermione said that they're in Australia. We'll look there. I'll dig into it," said Harry.

Ron hadn't slept that night. In fact, he hadn't slept all that well for a long time. When he did manage to doze off, he heard screams, he smelt blood, and he saw regret. Since he was living with George, he knew his brother was suffering, as well, with his starving form and bloodshot eyes. Their dad had suggested after the Battle they all go to a mind-Healer, but the sessions were expensive and Weasleys were anything if not prideful.

After a few days, Harry informed Ron and the rest of the Weasleys that he'd traced a purchase of a portkey to Sydney, Australia. His friend had also said he was taking an immediate trip there himself and was gone for a couple of days. He returned empty-handed, saying he had traced Hermione's magic but lost the trail and was confident to say she was no longer in Australia. When she vacated the country, she did not use a portkey, meaning there was no magical way of tracking her.

The media caught wind of Hermione's disappearance and concocted some rubbish tale of how she fled back to the Muggle World or some rot, but the rumor died as did the suspicion. After a few months, Ron had accepted that he and Hermione would not be getting married even if she returned. The girl he fancied and loved for years put it plainly she did not want to marry him nor did she love him anymore.

That following winter, Harry was busying himself with the Auror Academy and Ron had thought about joining him, but the holiday season was showering Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with heavy-pocketed customers. George needed the extra help, and he found he liked helping his brother with the jokes. Though Fred had been a better partner, Ron was catching on.

It was near Christmas, a few days before, and Bill, Fleur and Charlie were down for the hols. The brothers got together and paid a visit to the renovated Leaky Cauldron and ran into Seamus and Dean. They banded together, drank too much, many of them _far_ too much, and began rudely discussing women's body parts. The topic caused Ron to think of Hermione's body parts and he missed them terribly. It had been six months since his last shag. He hadn't the heart to go out and get pissed and find a willing bint for the night. Since the concluding of the war, he was given plenty of offers, but since Hermione kissed him in the midst of chaos at the Battle, that was it for him. He hadn't planned on kissing anyone else for the rest of his life. When they first shagged, he hadn't planned on shagging anyone else either.

Seamus had wolf-whistled and pointed in the bar's direction. "Lavender's looking fine from this angle. Shame what happened to her face, though. Had such a pretty one."

Lavender Brown had been one of many regrets Ron dreamt of at night and not the reason many thought. He never regretted letting things end between them, but he wished he'd taken a mature stance on their relationship back in Sixth Year, but he had been seventeen and hormonal. No, his biggest regret with Lavender was not being able to save her. Yes, it was Hermione to hex Greyback off of her, but if Ron had been a little more observant, quicker even, the sweet girl who gave him a load of firsts would have a better life ahead of her.

"I don't see anything wrong with her face," slurred Charlie and stumbled over towards the bar where Lavender was.

Later that night, with Charlie gone and Bill having returned home, Seamus and Dean gave Ron their condolences for the broken engagement, but they also told him he needed to move on and start dating again, reminding him that he was a war hero and could have a pick at any lass.

"I want Hermione," he told them and lowered his head on the table, sullen from his empty glass and empty life.

A part of him hoped Hermione would show up at Christmas, but she didn't. There was a rumor circulating about that she was up in Bulgaria, but he, or anyone for that matter, didn't put much stock in it. Harry had just waved his hand and said, "She's not there. Why would she be?"

"Viktor Krum," Ginny piped, analyzing the engagement ring she got from her fiancée that morning.

The New Year approached and Harry's presence at the Burrow had become scarce because of his work. Ginny and Mum were keeping themselves busy with planning the wedding, and he and George had talked about elongating their holiday for a few more days before returning to work. But then Valerie had Owled them saying she wasn't returning from her holiday in Spain because she met some bloke.

"We'll need to hire someone," complained George, rubbing the cinched wrinkle between his brows. "Got any ideas?"

Ron hadn't but as for Harry who heard about the space opened provided them a horrible idea.

"Right now, I'm ensuring those on probation are getting their community service done. I have someone in mind, but you won't like it. _I_ don't even like it, but the sooner she gets done with her hours, the sooner she can leave England the hell alone."

"Who do you have in mind?" asked George.

"Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson."

"No bloody way," shot Ron, waving his hand in front of himself. "We can't trust her in the shop. Have you gone mad?"

"You're off your rocker, Harry," George pointed out. "We need someone to help out, but we're not that desperate. We'll never _be_ that desperate."

"Do it as a favor for me then. I want her hours done, so she can leave. She's a bleedin' menace and driving her parole officer spare. In turn, he's driving me spare"

"How many hours does she need?" asked Ron, not that he cared, but he was curious.

"Only a hundred and twenty-five."

"Only a hundred and twenty-five," George repeated mockingly under his breath.

"That's only a little more than three weeks of work if you give her the weekends off. And you won't have to pay her. She can be your mule."

George pursed his lips pensively and tapped his chin with a finger. "Mule, you say?"

"Are you actually thinking about it?" sputtered Ron. "Remember what she said when-"

"No, Ron, I forgot," his brother sarcastically replied and then turned to Harry. "Yeah, she can be our mule."

Against his wishes, Pansy started the following Monday, and Ron had to bite his tongue upon her entrance into the store. She had walked in and sneered at her surroundings and stuck that upturned nose to the ceiling which automatically dropped the moment George had her working the Muggle way, for she was not allowed a wand until her community service hours were met.

His brother was not daft enough having her work the register. He actually fancied the idea of making her be their guinea pig for new products but in the end, she ended up stocking items and doing shipment in the back. As much as possible, they kept her there once realizing her presence was bad for business. Many had stomped out of the shop when they saw Pansy restocking the shelves with a scowl on her face.

"Talk about bad taste," harrumphed a scandalized middle-aged witch and hurriedly escorted her children out of the shop.

If Pansy was bothered by the customers' openness of their opinion, she hadn't let it show. The first few days of her working in the store made Ron realize she was made of steel and if she didn't want something to hurt her, it wouldn't.

On a late wintery evening, his brother, overwhelmed with shame and perhaps on the verge of tears, had told him he was sleeping with Angelina and had been for the past two months. George added that he hated himself for it because she and Fred were together before he died, and Ron hadn't known how to respond, his emotion divvied up into three parts. One part felt betrayal for Fred, the second felt understanding, and the third was simply indifference if that made any sense at all.

What he did was send George up to the flat and closed the store with Pansy. When it was time for her to leave, she peered out the front door with a troubled frown, eyes glaring at the blizzard outside.

Dislike was putting it mildly on how he felt about Parkinson, but she was a lady after all so he offered to cast a Warming Charm on her. She responded by snapping, "How chivalrous of you. No thanks, Weasley. Spare your less than half-decent magic on someone else," and threw the hood of her cloak over her long dark hair and barged through the door. Shrugging, he locked the door and was about to turn around when he heard a thump, a screech, and a popping-crack. Pressing his face against the window of the door, he saw Pansy in a heap at the bottom of the snow-covered concrete stairs.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled and fumbled with the keys to open the blasted door. Finally unlocking it, he carefully descended down the slippery stairs, seeing a smeared foot print on the third step down.

Grimacing, he stooped down and found Pansy unconscious with her leg kind off in a weird angle.

"Parkinson," he said and went to touch her, changed his mind, and then changed his mind again by lifting the hood and cursed loudly, "Shit!" when seeing a deep crimson gash starting from the middle of her forehead and outwards towards her left temple. The wound trickled blood heavily down her face, covering her left eyelid.

He reckoned he should call for George but didn't waste the time and Disapparated her to St. Mungo's where he had to carry her like she was someone important to him to the emergency level because the healers and medi-witches and wizards on the other levels sniffed haughtily at the unconscious Pansy and told him to take her there, none of them bothering to lend a hand.

When he had arrived to the emergency level, he met up with a medi-witch who narrowed her eyes at Pansy and told Ron she was probably sleeping and was fine without actually touching her.

After some huffing and cursing, he was able to get her admitted and have a healer check on her injuries, but the bloke had not been pleasant or careful, blankly telling him of her broken leg and a cracked frontal bone along with a concussion. She'd be able to leave in the morning when everything was mended.

He left Pansy there and returned to the store, informing George of what happened, even about the unhelpful staff at St. Mungo's.

"Shame but she brought it upon herself, you know," he said.

"I know but I feel rotten leaving her there. We should probably contact her parole officer and tell him what happened."

The following morning, he and George opened up the shop, assuming Pansy was not going show. At 8:30, her usual time to arrive for work, Pansy arrived outside the entrance looking tired but healed with Malfoy beside her, his arm linked through hers and Disapparated before Ron and George got to the door.

"Surprised to see you," Ron commented as she entered and shirked her cloak, her shoulders and arms trembling. "You sure you're all right?"

"I got discharged. Draco was kind enough to take me to work. Need not worry your poor Weasley selves." She slipped on her bright orange stocker apron.

Her work that day was dismal, but neither Ron or George had the heart to chastise her. A few days later, though, she was back to normal and up to speed again with her daily assignments.

A week before her last day, she left the shop for the evening, her cloak in place. Ron had formed a habit of watching her climb down the stairs and when she reached the sidewalk, he abandoned the window and resumed tidying up before leaving, as well. He fancied having a drink at the Leaky Cauldron.

The air was chilly and the streets were vacant as he trekked towards the establishment. He entered and was pleased to find that the area wasn't overly populated and stole a seat at the bar, ordering a shot of Firewhiskey from Tom. Once he downed it, he asked for another and nursed it slowly. Halfway done with that one, he noticed Pansy a few seats down from him looking dodgy underneath the lush, dark blue hood of her cloak. In front of her, she was tracing the circular rim of the half-empty glass with a plain but manicured fingertip.

"I don't think your parole officer would approve of your choice in drink, Parkinson," he said.

Her tracing stopped and she rested her hand delicately next to the glass, using the bar as leverage, turning upper-half to face him. With her other hand, she lowered her hood and met his gaze with trivial irritation.

"My crime wasn't because I was a slave to the sauce, Weasley," she told him, her voice soft and almost a little amused. "Though you're right. He wouldn't approve. Are you going to tattle on me?"

Ron debated the answer, and then realized how childish that would be if he had. Bloody hell, if the bint wanted a drink, she could have a drink. Like she stated, drinking wasn't her offense.

"I've better things to do," he muttered under his breath and took another swallow of Firewhiskey, a gesture to Pansy, physically telling her he was done speaking with her. It was bad enough he spent the majority of his day around her.

Yet, clearly she wasn't done speaking to him, for she asked, "Do you even _know_ what I got arrested for?"

"Everyone knows, sweetheart." He lightly snorted and shot her a humorous side-glance.

She paused for a moment and then stated, "What I did. What I _said_ was _not_ a crime. It wasn't illegal. Foolish, perhaps. Illegal, no. And I was treated with as much care as a captured Death Eater for it. I was even put on trial, and you and your self-righteous friends may think I deserved that, but I didn't."

The bleedin' harpy was killing his buzz. With a grunt, he pushed at his glass and told her, "It's not like you went to Azkaban, Parkinson. You got a slap on the wrist, so go whine to Malfoy."

"It was Draco who got slapped on the wrist, Weasley. Not I," she clarified indigently, her shoulders straightening in defiance. "I got two years of parole, eighteen months of those serving community service as a punishment for saying what a lot of people were thinking."

His ears burned from exasperation, but he withheld unleashing his temper and thankfully she stopped speaking and dropped a few sickles on the bar beside her glass and exited the place, throwing the hood of her cloak back over her head.

A few minutes later, after draining another glass, he tossed some sickles down and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron. When passing the alley between Gladrags and Tea Leaves and Scrolls, a hand shot out from the darkness and fisted his collar, catching him by surprise and reeling him out of the street. Pressed against the cold brick of the tea shop, Ron's eyes narrowed at the blue hood obscuring most of Pansy's face.

"What the bloody hell-"

She silenced his inquiry by pulling his collar downward and fusing her lips to his. Caught completely off guard by her attack, he barely noticed that they had Disapparated. Once their feet stabilized firmly, she let go of him and began pulling on the thick strings cinching her cloak together.

Gawking at her, he backpedaled and saw that she had taken them to a prissy-looking flat in the middle of what appeared to a bedroom with a comfy spacious bed donned in bright purple floral patterns.

"Parkinson," he croaked, his eyes bugging out of his head when her cloak was long gone and she was un-tucking the hem of her sweater from the waistline of her trousers. She peeled the material off of her torso and over her head and like dozy sod, he watched it fall to the floor and then saw her little hands unbuckle her belt and unzip her pants, stripping herself of those, as well.

"It looks silly when I'm the only one undressed, Weasley." She stretched her hands behind her back, her black-lace clad bosom jutting out at him.

Getting the impression she was about to take off her bra, he snapped out of his daze and coughed out, "Stop!"

"I don't really want to." And the frilly, lacy piece of lingerie fell to the floor, and he placed his hands over his eyes.

"You have gone mental! What are you doing?" He whirled around away from her and tore his hands from his eyes and patted at his pockets in search of his wand.

"Looking for this?"

He refused to turn around.

"You stole my wand?"

"How else could we have gotten here in such short of time? Here," she heard her say, picturing her topless with her arm stretched out in front of her with his wand in hand. "You can have it back."

"What are you doing, Parkinson?" he repeated and combed his fingers through his hair. This was not how he thought the night was going to end up.

"I'm in desperate need of a shag, Weasley. I haven't been touched in ages, and I've been driven spare because of it. We're both adults, and we can be mature about this. Take me now, and it won't mean anything. I'll send you on your way when we're done. We'll see each other in the morning and pretend it never happened."

"I'm going to pretend this isn't happening right now." Ron chose to turn around and pointedly kept his eyes on her face and like he imagine, she was offering his wand. He took it from her and said, "Besides, I'm sure Malfoy won't want me touching his girlfriend."

"I'm not his girlfriend," she hissed and then blushed, like she was beginning to realize the situation was not going at all as she planned. Her arms wrapped around breasts, and she bent down to pick up her cloak and slipped it back on. "If I had been his girlfriend, why would I have sought you out?"

"I don't bloody know." Ron rubbed his head, a headache from the Firewhiskey developing beneath his fingers. "I'm going to leave."

"I can't believe this," she lamented, raising and lowering her arms in an exasperated gesture. "I can't believe you don't want to. Am I truly that hideous? I know my nose isn't fantastic, but the rest of my face and my whole body shouldn't be shunned because of that."

"I'm not shunning you because of your nose, Parkinson. I'm not taking you up on the offer because I don't like you. End of story."

"And you think I like you? Just because I offered sex doesn't mean I fancy you, Weasley. I simply needed a male, so I went to the Leaky Cauldron hoping I'd meet someone, but you came along instead. You were the only one available."

Ron wondered if not being offended was a good sign or a bad one, so he shrugged and said, "I'll go."

He Disapparated and the next morning when she arrived for her morning shift, neither of them said anything about the events (or lack thereof) from the night before. They both worked through the day ignoring each other spectacularly.

That is, up until George left work a tad early.

While they closed up the store for the night, Pansy climbed up one of the ladders attached to the shelves of merchandise and removed a few products George and Ron no longer wanted to market. As she picked up a box of toy wands, she froze when seeing a large black hairy spider crawling down the box and scurrying onto her hand. At first she stiffened, a startled, frightened gasp escaping her lips and causing Ron to gaze up at Pansy who then let loose a screech and whipped her hand back and forth, losing her balance on the step of the ladder and soaring backwards.

For two seconds, Ron gaped at the scene before snapping out of his trance and bounding towards the falling girl and breaking her fall. (Later, he would ask himself why he simply didn't stop her with his wand). When her back collided with his chest, his bent knees gave and they fell to the floor in a pained heap.

"Gow," mumbled Ron into the material of her sweater, for her bum had made painful contact with his private bits.

"Oh my Gods, it's still on me!" she howled and leapt from him and danced on her feet, shaking her hand. "Get it off! Get it the hell off!" She waved her hand back and forth, a keening whimpering sound dislodging from her throat.

The large tarantula, the size of a tea biscuit, persisted to grip on to her skin and continue treading up her hand and making way past her wrist. She stuck the limb towards Ron who rolled over onto his front with a pained groan and climbed to his feet. He shook his head to clear the distortion and stared at Pansy, making an 'eeping' sound when seeing the arachnid so close to him.

"Get it off!" she demanded, her eyes watering with unshed tears. "Dammit, get it off now!"

"Unlikely." He stumbled back, tripping over a forgotten box and falling backwards, his legs flailing up into the air.

"Oh Gods," he heard, his eyes now up at the ceiling and parts of his body sore. Muttering curses under his breath, he sat up to see Pansy running around in circles waving her hand about with that blasted spider still on her arm.

Poor bint. He wondered if there was a way he could help her from this far away.

"Hey, Parkinson, hold still for a bit." He withdrew his wand out of his pocket and pointed at her. She halted her running, her chest heaving erratically and eyes wide in fear. "Perhaps I can kill it from here."

"Kill it from there?" she screamed. "You think you can kill it from ten feet away, Weasley? You'll blast my arm off! Get over here and yank it off, coward!"

"I'm not touching it. Just…" He halted when having a thorough look at the spider and its large pinchers which appeared to be gleaming with venom. "Shite! Pansy, don't move. Stop moving!"

"I have," she said quietly while the spider crawled up her arm nearing her shoulder.

"No, you don't understand. That is a baby acromantula, and it will kill you."

"_WHAT?!_" she burst, her glistening eyes shedding a single tear at the revelation. In a small voice, she pled, "Don't let it, Ronald. Please don't."

"I-I won't," he stammered, caught off guard by her vulnerability. Nodding his head firmly, he pointed his wand at her arm and said, "Just hold still. My aim is fine."

The _stupefy_ on the tip of his tongue failed to flop out when the spider scurried up Pansy's shoulder to the exposed part of her neck and sank its fangs into the soft tissue over carotid.

A few minutes later, he found himself on the emergency level of St. Mungo's again, hurriedly telling the admittance medi-wizard what happened. Thankfully this wizard was nothing like the former medi-witch. No, this medi-wizard was a Yank and hadn't even flinched when Ron said the dying girl in his arms was Pansy Parkinson. The young man frowned in concern and grabbed her wrist and studied his watch before taking a gander at her neck, the heel of his right hand unnecessarily resting right above her left breast.

"Her pulse is frighteningly weak. Such a shame for a looker. The bigger shame is that nose. Would you like me to consult with another healer while she's in our care? I'm sure we can fix that puppy face in a jiffy."

"Uh…" Ron stared blankly at him. "Can we just…you know…save her life right now?"

"Good idea. She's turning blue."

Instead of leaving her like before, he opted for staying. He waited in the lobby area, flipping through out-of-date Quidditch magazines. After an hour or so, a medi-witch came up to him and told him that Pansy was stabilized but her recovery was going to take a little while.

"You should probably come back later," she suggested and then bit her bottom lip and tucked a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "But before you do, my shift is done. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me down in the cafeteria?"

St. Mungo's coffee was dreadful, and he had to keep adding sugar and cream packets to make the scalding liquid drinkable. Even then it was barely tolerable, so he kept himself busy by tuning into Megan Jones. She had been a Hufflepuff in his year whom he hadn't paid much attention to back in school. But he listened as she talked about herself, discovering she was a Pisces. Also, her favorite food was chocolate-flavored anything which he appreciated, and when she was younger, her dream was to become a model.

"I couldn't become one, you see," she said with a forlorn sigh. "I'm barely five feet tall."

Her mother was a Muggle, and she taught secondary school . Her father was an Unspeakable, and Ron wondered how they got together.

She jabbered on until midnight, and he told her he had to get home but wasn't able to vacate the premises without her Floo address written on a napkin. When Apparating straight into his bedroom, George came stumbling in not long after asking where he'd been and Ron told him the story, including the part about Megan.

"You should go for it. I remember her. She was wicked attractive. Had a habit of wearing shorter skirts than permissible."

Expectedly, Pansy had not shown up for her morning shift at the joke shop and seized doing so for the rest of the week. During those days, Ron went on three dates with Megan Jones, each one leaving him more depressed than before. She was not Hermione, and he couldn't even pretend with her unnervingly short stature, straight blonde hair, and aqua blue eyes.

On their third and last day, he noticed the hints she'd been dropping. She wanted a snog or even a shag, but he wasn't up for it and told her so, thus, earning him a slap and a threat of castration if he ever went near her again.

A week since Pansy's run in with the acromantula, she returned from St. Mungo's appearing better with the exception of a white square bandage covering a part of her neck.

That evening with George gone again, they closed up the shop, both keeping a look out for spiders when Pansy asked in a low soft voice, "Why didn't you come and visit me?"

"Why would I?" he replied. Yeah, he had thought about it, but why was she coming off all sad and whatnot?

"Weren't you at all worried? I almost died."

He was worried, but he wasn't going to admit it, so he shrugged, thus earning a miffed grunt from Pansy, and she told him, "Three times my heart stopped after I got bit, and you have nothing to say? And they call _me_ cold."

Three times? Bloody hell, Ron inwardly cursed and remembered his father being bitten by You-Know-Who's snake and how the man had almost died.

A few days later, Pansy showed up for her shift without the bandage and in place was smooth, flawless skin, giving both George and Ron the impression the Healers healed her nicely and perfectly. That was until Ron caught her in the back room with a pocket-mirror in one hand and a small jar of Glamour Cream in the other. Out of curiosity, Ron read up on acromantula bites that night after work and learned that no healing charm could undo the scarring left behind.

By the end of the week, Pansy had finished up her community service and left the shop for the last time. Neither her, George, or Ron bid adieus to each other but simply kept busy as she walked out the store. The moment she left, though, George commented, "We need to hire someone now."

That night, Ron made a trip to the Leaky Cauldron and had a few more shots of Firewhiskey than necessary and stumbled out of the premises a couple of hours later. Journeying back to the joke shop, he felt a demanding tug pull him into an alleyway and came face-to-face with Pansy, her blue eyes slit and glinting dangerously.

He may have been sloshed to the nines, but he knew when he was in trouble.

"Parkinson, what are you doing?" he slurred and wrinkled his forehead.

Her mouth curled like she was utterly disgusted by him and then placed that repulsed snarl on his lips and started backing him up against the brick wall of Flourish and Blotts. He tried pulling away from her, but he was in no sober position to do so against her unrelenting kisses which caused him to wince as her teeth bit harshly at his bottom lip.

"Ow," he said into her mouth and frowned. She pulled away and stared at him murderously before unsheathing a wand from her pocket and he whined petulantly, "That's mine. Give it back. Why do you keep taking my wand, Parkinson?"

"Because you won't let me at your other one, Weasley," she hissed venomously, and the world went wonky before landing bodily at her feet as she stood beneath a miniature chandelier. He craned his head around and groaned. They were in her bedroom again, and what did she say about his other wand?

"My other wand?" he yelped as she shirked her cloak. In seconds flat, she was only in knickers again, but this time he couldn't look away, so he ungentlemanly gawked at her. Bloody hell, her knockers…

No, no, no, no, no!

"No," he said, his eyelids stretching back into his skull while one shapely, tanned leg swung around his lower torso in a straddle and, uncaring about his verbal dismay, took his hands and placed them on…

* * *

"When I asked how you and Pansy came together, I was actually hoping you would give me the fast version," Hermione said to Ron as they walked rigidly next to each other in halls of Malfoy Manor.

"That was the quick version," he told her.

Staring at him skeptically, she let out a soft short chuckle. "No that was an unnecessary detailed catch-up story, Ron. You could've just said you two decided to start dating after her community service was finished. Goodness, I only said that Malfoy got me pregnant, I quit school, and got a job."

His ears reddened as his broad shoulders hunched, avoiding eye contact with her. "But what Pansy and I had at the beginning wasn't really…practical. I guess that she liked me or something, but I had been lonely. It wasn't until a while later when things started changing. My parents, no one, not even George knew about Pansy and I until…well…we had to get married. You understand, right. If anyone does, it's you."

Hermione let that assumption slide but couldn't help but comment, "Draco and I never got married, Ron."

"But you know what it's like to make certain decisions when becoming a parent unexpectedly."

Hermione nodded and looked away, her hands clasping as she frowned at a silenced portrait of a man with a rectangular golden plaque beneath it with the name Gaultier Malfoi. The man sneered back at her and mouthed 'Mudblood' at her.

Exhaling softly, she faced Ron again and said, "I'm surprised you're not angry with me. I was expecting…something that was not this. You've changed. Grown up, I guess."

He shrugged and grimly admitted, "I don't know. I was reduced to a few choice words when seeing the _Prophet_ article Sunday morning, Hermione. I felt like…I don't know…betrayed. It's Malfoy and I know that sounds bleedin' hypocritical coming from me, but I can't help it. I love Pansy, but everything she came from I can't stand. Only tolerated the bastard because she and him were close. Sometimes I thought they were hiding things. Maybe I was right."

"Oh, Ron." Hermione patted his arm and smiled reassuringly. "If Pansy knew, then I had no idea. But like I told Harry, I wasn't hiding and Alex wasn't necessarily a secret. No one really came searching for me, and I moved on. Like you, I became busy with being a working parent."

"Can't believe that pillock didn't help you and your son out," he accused and Hermione rolled her eyes and refrained from grinning. The Ron she knew was not all gone; that was for sure. It almost pleased her.

"I only received as much as I saw fit. Believe it or not, he helped me and loved Alex very much. More than anything. Gave him everything…literally. It's sort of why we are here…whether I like it or not."

"Pansy told me," he said sympathetically. "I'm sorry that Mr. and Mrs. Death Eater are your son's grandparents. It's bad enough when the in-laws are You-Know-Who sympathizers. I keep trying to persuade Pansy's parents to shrivel up and die, but they won't bloody listen. Can you believe that? The other day Pansy let her mother watch Rose while I took the boys out for new shoes and later at the dinner table, she's asking me and her mother about Mudbloods and Blood Traitors and how she had been forbidden by her grandparents to marry one."

"Oh no." Hermione covered her mouth. Was this how it was going to be if she and Alex weren't careful? If Draco's parents even hinted at such things with her son, they could forget everything and get used to the idea of being without an heir.

Ron seemed unperturbed by what he had just said and smugly expressed, "I reckon she'll marry a Muggle-Born out of spite. She doesn't like Pansy's parents which is a good thing, but she's not fond of mine either. Mum thinks she's a bit of a handful, and Dad is scared of her. What about Alex? Is he a tad crazy?"

"Mmm." Hermione tilted her head left to right indecisively and said, "He can be mischievous and sometimes drive me batty, but he's my boy. What about your boys? I hear you are having another. That must be…interesting."

"I don't know how Pansy keeps them in line while I'm away at work during the day. Everyday I come home to a house that's fully intact, and I'm shocked. The twins are six and Jacob is four. This next one, Pansy and I can't decide on a name. Keeps tossing pompous, old family names at me that no one will be able to pronounce or spell. I don't want my kid getting beat up in school, you know."

Hermione let out a quiet laugh and was about to reply when they turned the corner and saw Alex and the four Weasley children scampering towards them earnestly.

"Mommy, come with us to build a snowman. We're going to do a whole bunch," her son pleaded and grabbed her hand.

"A whole bunch?" she asked in faux surprise and sighed exaggeratedly. "I guess you'll need my help then." She turned towards Ron. "Are you coming?"

"Please, Daddy," his four children chimed in unison. Rose tilted her head back and poked out her bottom lip and jiggled it like a professional. Her father caved with a half-hearted smile, swooping down and throwing his daughter over his shoulder as his boys fought over who got to ride on his legs as he walked.

* * *

Dressed in her snow gloves and thick puffy coat, Hermione watched from the sidelines as her son and the Weasley kids collaborated together in erecting the third snowman. She and Ron helped with the first two but both tuckered out after that. He had gone to check on Pansy, saying his wife was a week overdue and the baby was taking its sweet bloody time baking.

As the children were rolling the large ball of snow for the plump middle of their third creation, she saw two figures approaching and groaned when recognizing one of them as Theodore. Merlin, why can't that damned fink go away? Hadn't he caused enough trouble?

The other was Blaise, and judging by his pinched face, he was just as pleased with his friend being there as she was.

"What is he doing here?" she asked Blaise when they got close enough, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself.

"I'm always welcome at the manor, Granger," Theodore said and glanced over at the giggling children, eyeing her son appraisingly.

"Blaise, why did you bring him?" she hissed at scowling man and then glared at the other. "Perhaps you should spend your spare time with your fiancé and not here harassing me."

Stoically, he said, "Yes, Blaise told me that you met Daphne. I hope she didn't claw you too badly."

"Mate, please," Blaise growled out between clenched teeth. "I get you want to get to know Draco's boy but-"

Hermione didn't catch the last part of what he said due to a gust of brisk wind snatching her cap. The knitted fabric fell to the powdery-fresh ground a few feet away from her, so she reached over to grasp but another breeze pushed it farther away, this time sliding further.

"Come back here," she muttered underneath her breath and sighed in relief when her cap stopped, and she was able to catch up to it. Leaning down, she picked it up and dusted off the ice particles before yanking it securely over her head. She turned around and started back towards Blaise and Theodore when she heard the former shout at her.

"Hermione, don't move!" he ordered as Theodore un-pocketed his wand.

"Mom, what are you doing over there?" Alex called out to her which was when she heard it.

The cracking.

In horror, she inhaled sharply and hastily pinned her eyes at her feet, and she felt the ground give beneath her, her stomach dropping as did her entire body, plunging into frigid water. Instantly, the water soaked her clothes, weighing them down as the current dragged her away from the hole she fell through. Her hands clamored at the ice above her, lungs burning for air. She hadn't caught her breath before falling into the river.

Her arms were growing tired from the weighted cloth and fighting against the current, and she was moving too fast. Gods, she was going to die.

Blindly, she shoved her hand into the pocket of her cloak and grasped her wand. Thank heavens it was still in there, and she pointed it at the ice above her when suddenly the current of the river changed, losing her grip on the wand. The lighter object floated away from her, and she tried to grasp it, but it quickly disappeared out of sight. She attempted banging on the ice again, but her cloak was dragging her downwards. The idea of removing it drifted through her clouding mind, but she was unable to focus on nothing but her seizing lungs and the unbearable cold. Her limbs were frozen. She couldn't move. She couldn't think beyond closing her eyes and succumbing to the darkness enveloping her.

* * *

A/N: Phew! Been a little busy with everything, so I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Thanks to all who are reading, reviewing, following, and have put this fic on their favorite list.

**Thank you to: MMWillow13, alina290, Angelus Draco, Kimee08, Kat, Vidicon666, hkmac, Aya Diefair, Guest, Musette Fujiwara, and Team Dramione for the reviews.**

To answer some questions and comment on some reviews: I'm going to be honest about how long this story will be. It will be very long. I'm not sure how long, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's another 100,000+ words. There's still so much that I want to touch on and share with my readers.

Also, I agree. Hermione does not need to end up with someone to be happy in the end. She can find happiness without it. And as for Astoria ever meeting Alex, I haven't decided yet, but I can't say the same for Hermione.

And **alina290** was right. Both Draco and Hermione caused their unhappiness, but we are mostly seeing it from her perspective, so it is easy to think it's primarily her fault. I agree, though, that she didn't treat him right, but I can't say that Draco treated her perfectly either. We'll see uglier sides of him, just wait.

Last comment and then I'm done. I got a question if Hermione still has that ring? Sorry, but I can't say. We will just have to see.

I hope the chapter was good. I'm sorry for any mistakes. I'll probably go over the chapter again within the next few days and tidy it up some more. I'm also sorry that it mostly about Ron, but I wanted to get the majority of his story now in instead breaking it up and popping it in here and there. Please read and review and tell me your thoughts. Thanks so much and have a great day!


	42. Chapter 42

"Has her condition changed, Healer Bogrov?" Lucius asked upon entering the guest room suite Hermione currently occupied. Well, occupying was perhaps not the best term in describing the woman's inhabitants inside his house. For a solid week, she laid unmoving on the bed with an IV lodged in a vein in her left arm, doused to the eyeballs in Monitoring Charms and being tended daily by Healer Bogrov.

The healer gently held Hermione's wrist and studied his watch. With a light cough, he released her limb and carefully rested it against her side. He removed his glasses and nodded while pulling out a cloth and cleaning the lenses and droned, "Her pulse is slowly returning to normal as is her body temperature. I'm confident in saying she is out of the woods, Mr. Malfoy. When you called me, and I saw the condition she was in, I thought for sure she was not going to make it. In fact, I thought for sure she was no longer with us, but that _rennervate _Mr. Nott cast on her must've done the trick. It most certainly prolonged her suffering. However, I assure Miss Granger is no longer in pain. The pneumonia is gone so to speak." He slipped the glasses back on his face and sighed. "The lungs are clear, relatively. They healed which is what matters; however, the scar tissue left behind will cause problems for her if she is not careful. Her diet will need to be adjusted, and a simple exercise plan will assist in keeping her health intact. I almost guarantee she will be prone to contract respiratory infections very easily in the future, and above all else, the smoking must stop and not just for her. Secondhand inhalation needs to be avoided."

"I understand," Lucius said crisply and shot a glance at Hermione. "When will it be safe removing the Comatose Spell?"

"It will lift naturally when the body and mind is ready. Don't be alarmed if it takes another week or even more, Mr. Malfoy. Her body went through life-threatening trauma and may not be ready in conquering everyday life just yet, but I think it's now appropriate to allow visitors. I'm sure her son would like to see her."

"Indeed," commented Lucius. Alexander had grown despondent over the last week, not uttering a single syllable. At first he'd been distraught, rightfully frightened at what he'd seen and wanted nothing more than to visit his mother. Lucius may not like the boy's mother and couldn't deny that a part of him wished the worse for her. Not that it would have done a lick of good if she had departed from this plane of existence. She probably had a legal guardian or godparent all figured out in case of such tragedies.

But as much as Lucius despised the woman, she was the mother of his grandson, and most importantly, Alex was Draco's son. Draco had loved the boy enough to claim him and bestow the Malfoy name upon him; therefore, he had to take it upon himself to watch over and protect the next in line, ensuring health in the physical and emotional sense.

Healer Bogrov left Hermione's side and slipped on his cloak and hat. "I shall return tomorrow at the same time. Alert me if there are any changes before then. Give the wife my best."

Lucius followed the man to the main Floo and bid him farewell before meeting Narcissa in the Yellow Tea Room for brunch. Blaise and Alexander were joining her, the boy appearing tired and sullen and much to his worry, a tad thinner. The plate of piping hot mini muffins and orange wedges lay untouched on his plate.

"How is she?" asked Blaise upon noticing his arrival. He set down his fork and wiped the crumbs from the corners of his mouth, and Alex gazed at Lucius with naked hope.

Settling himself into the master's chair, he sipped at his tea before answering, "I was assured she will make a full recovery. The only question is when she'll wake up." Lucius' focus rested on Alex and gave him a small but comforting smile. "Which she will. I won't pretend to know everything about your mother, Alexander, but she is anything if not stubborn. I was also given the permission by Healer Bogrov that it is permissible for her to have visitors. Fancy making a trip after brunch?"

Alex nodded vigorously, his small hands fisting his napkin like it was the only thing keeping him from making a mad dash to the fourth floor where his mother dwelt.

"That's relieving news, Lucius," said his wife and smiled gracefully at her grandson. Like him, Narcissa had been more frightened for the boy's health rather than his mother's. Seeing Alex shift from sobbing hysterically to withdrawn and morose had caused her undeniable grief. With Miss Granger incapacitated, his wife had fawned over the child, showering him with loving words and gifts. She had given him many toys, among those a child's broom of which he gazed up at her wide-eyed, solemnly shaking his head as if to tell her he couldn't without his mother's permission.

Of course Miss Granger's absence had caused Narcissa in becoming more relaxed around the child, but not as much as they both would have preferred due to Blaise's constant presence. Lucius knew the moment Alex's mother woke up, Hermione would demand a full debriefing from Blaise on what her son was exposed to during her time of healing. He also knew when she woke up that all of their previous encounters were going to resemble a trip to a candy store in comparison.

Suddenly, a sharp throb pulsed inside his head. He needed a spot of tea with a nip of brandy.

"I have good news," Narcissa spoke, setting her teacup down on the saucer and smiling pleasingly.

"Do tell," urged Lucius, snapping his fingers to summon Mippy, code for 'get me a hard cup of tea this very instant'. She arrived instantaneously with a bow and his drink and Disapparated.

"I got word from one of Alex's tutors. Professor Quincy will be here in three days. They will be starting on Potions. Isn't that lovely. Oh, Alex," she beamed at the boy in pride, "you'll do so well. Your daddy was exceptional at Potions, and you will be, too, I'm sure of it. But of course we'll have to go to Diagon Alley and fetch you a potion's set as soon as possible."

Both Blaise and Lucius coughed noisily in discouragement, the former piping up, "Mrs. Malfoy, is it wise to make a trip? I highly advise against it."

"I'm sure we can place an order for one and have it by this evening if necessary, darling," Lucius pointed out gently, thinking a trip to Diagon Alley was still too soon. The press had yet to let up on wanting a current picture of the boy, and he'd be damned to let them have it. They were like mongrels offered a fresh slab of bloody, red meat. Tongues salivating and lapping, they'd bombard the boy with questions and overwhelm him, frighten him most likely. His grandson was not like his father in that aspect who had craved and relished attention from strangers but yearned for it from his mother. Yes, he'd noticed how attached Alex and Miss Granger were with hugs, handholding, and kisses. It reminded him a great deal of Draco and his wife of when his son had been a lad. The boy was always pleased having been given tight, loving embraces from his mother. He always wanted to be carried and had been almost impossible to get him to walk, and Cissa had cooed and fussed over him, telling Lucius that it was fine that Draco wasn't walking yet.

"_However is he supposed to walk when you keep holding him? For Merlin's sake, he is thirteen months old, Narcissa!" he hissed at wife as she carefully held their chunky lump of a son in her arms, her lips smooching a series of soft butterfly kisses across his cheeks and forehead._

"_He's just a baby, Lucius, and he needs his mummy." She grinned adoringly at the baby who gifted her a high-pitched giggle. "Don't you, sweetheart?" She sighed contently and brought Draco's small head to her shoulder, the child curling his tiny fist close to his mouth and sucking on his thumb._

_Lucius could not contain the feeling of pride swelling up inside him at seeing how adorable his progeny appeared. Some parents had cursed the world with physically inadequate offspring, and he was very pleased not to be one of them. _

Once brunch had finished and with the headache lessened considerably, Lucius, Narcissa, Blaise, and Alex left the tearoom and walked the hallways leading to the fourth floor. The boy kept close to Blaise while passing the portraits with his eyes straight. His grandparents had advised him to keep his eyes forward at all times when passing them, not giving him a reason why.

He couldn't help but keep his eyes peeled and wandering, though. He had not been on this floor of the manor. In actuality, he had not been in most parts of the property. His grandfather had told him not to go scouting about, and despite being tempted to do so, he resisted. Not that it was possible anyway. His father's parents had kept an especially close eye on him. Blaise, too. All of them giving him all kinds of attention like something even worse was going to happen. Like watching his mom fall through ice and into a river and not resurface wasn't bad enough.

Alex knew it could've been worse, but he wasn't going to go there. Not yet, anyway. He'd save his troubled thoughts for when his mom woke up. The last thing he wanted was for his grandmother, someone he was just getting to know, fussing over him even more than she already was. The toys and new clothes made of nice fabric were fine, but he really just wanted his mom. Everyone gave him a reason why he couldn't see her yet. Something about how her immune system was fragile and how her body was fighting off infections. But his grandfather saw her every day, though not for very long, Alex was told.

They came to two closed doors, and Alex watched on shifting feet as his grandfather slowly opened one of them and offered his hand to him. The child stared at the gloved hand pensively before placing his smaller one in it and was led into the room while the others stayed behind at the threshold.

The room was gargantuan with a large window on the west wall with parted, emerald-green drapes where the sun shining through the glass acted as the light source. The floors were hard marble, and the walls were plainly white. He noticed outlines on them where portraits must've been taken down and took note of the room's clean smell, having the faint odor of disinfectant.

His mother lay motionlessly on her back underneath starchy, white sheets with a fluffy pillow underneath her head and was reminded of the Muggle fairy tales she recited on occasion when he was a little younger. He thought she looked like someone in need of a kiss to wake up, so he shuffled closer to the side of the bed, realizing he'd have to climb up on it to do so. It was big, though, and his mom was right in the middle laying unnervingly still. The sound of her breath and the rise of her chest comforted him, so he reached over as far as he could and brushed his fingers against hers and frowned when they didn't even twitch in response.

"She's not asleep," his grandfather told him carefully but firmly. "But she is resting."

That didn't make sense to Alex at all, so he scowled at his mother's slack face. Her eyelids were shut, and her mouth was partially opened, taking in air. She most certainly looked like she was sleeping, but then again, he knew she wasn't keen sleeping on her back but favored her side. He remembered that from when he'd crawl into bed next after having a nightmare. She was always on her side and would scoot closer to him and place an arm around him, whispering how much she loved him.

His scowl started to crumble, and he felt a hand pat his shoulder. He looked up at Blaise who told him, "She'll be fine. I promise."

Unable to help it, he whispered squeakily, his voice rusty with misuse, "I want my mom."

"I know," he sighed and patted his head and then gestured to his mom. "And she knows. She only needs time, Alex."

"Did my dad need time, too?" Because of if people needed time to die or live then…then...he didn't understand.

His grandfather left the room at once as Blaise shook his head. "I'm sorry to say that your father had no time, and it's not fair he left so soon and so unexpectedly. But your mother will wake up. She is," he paused and lightly chuckled, "the most stubborn woman I've ever known. She won't want me telling you this, but I think you should know."

"Know what?"

Blaise sunk one knee to the floor to get on eyelevel with the Alex. "Your mum survived a war. She survived a war where many people like her did not. And do you know how she did it? Because she's resilient. She tough. All that righteous nobility thickened her skin."

"You sound like my dad," Alex murmured, casting a forlorn glance at his mom. "Mom said she wasn't in the war. She said she was out of the country. She said she never got hurt, and that she was safe."

_Such lies, Granger,_ Blaise inwardly told the unconscious woman in the bed. He disapproved of her dishonesty regarding her part in the war, but he was not a parent, so he could only fork out so much judgment. He vowed when it was his turn to procreate, he'd tell his offspring the truth: he was of the neutral party.

"You'll have to talk to her about it then. It might be a little rough for her to tell you. It was a difficult time for everyone. Now what say you we take to the library? When your mum wakes up, she'll be impressed how fast you learned Italian."

"I haven't learned," Alex denied bashfully. "I only know a few words."

"So let's go learn a few more. Like your father once told me, the most important thing a bloke can learn is how to order a pizza in Italy. I, of course, knew that already, but he learned for himself the hard way, poor chap. A story for another time, I'm afraid."

* * *

The air was warm as Hermione watched the sun set from her place on the picnic blanket. With her legs crossed in front of her, she smiled while watching the sky darken.

"What are you smiling at?" Draco asked as he lay beside her, munching on a half-eaten green apple.

"This is nice." She wiggled her bare toes which were painted a glossy lime green. "Don't you think this is nice?"

"Indeed," he commented and took another crisp-sounding bite out of his snack.

"We never got to do this, though. I rarely ever saw you during the summer. You hardly got to enjoy a proper summer in Salem. I would have liked to take you here. Abigail's Lake is wonderful during that time of the year."

"It's too warm," he complained, finishing off his apple and tossing the core to the side and swallowed. "And muggy."

"I like it." She let her head fall back while sighing contently. "It's relaxing here. Don't you agree?" She craned her head to stare at him. He had his hands interlocked behind his skull, staring blankly up at the sky where the stars started poking out to greet them.

"We've been here for so long. I need to get back. So do you," he whispered.

Hermione frowned at him. "I don't need to go anywhere, and you can stay for a bit longer. Please stay. I've never asked you before. Will you do it for me now?"

"I can't stay and neither can you. Scorpius is waiting, and you know his patience is limited. He'll start throwing fits, and you know it, Granger."

"You're speaking in tongues, Malfoy," She scoffed and playfully swatted at his stomach. "Alex is over there by the swings." She pointed a finger at her son who was pushing the two year old girl harnessed inside a protected belt, the younger child giggling happily while building height and speed. They were twenty or so yards away. "He's pushing Eliza on the swing. They're having fun."

She lowered herself down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder and felt his arm wrap around her and he said, "Why you call her that, I haven't the slightest. Her name is Cassiopeia." His larynx bobbed and lowly added, "Or it would have been."

"I know," she replied in a soft breath and buried herself deeper into his embrace, brushing her lips underneath his jawline. "Do you think she would have really looked like that? Would she have really had my eyes?"

"Perhaps, but you can't stay here, and I have to leave." Draco pushed her away and sat up, extending his hand towards the children on the swing. "Bring her to me, Scorpius. We have to leave."

Alex gently maneuvered his little sister out of the swing and grabbed her hand, leading her towards their parents, their feet bare and grass-stained and lips red and wet from their ice-lollies eaten a few minutes prior.

The little girl let go of her brother's hand and toddled over to her father and clung to his shoulder as he climbed to his feet. Hermione sadly stared up at him and begged, "Please stay with me. I miss you so much."

"We have to go and so do you. Scorpius is waiting for you." He began walking down the hill towards the lake, Eliza waving her hand in goodbye over his shoulder.

Alex was no longer next to her, and the swing-set was gone, as well. Draco was now on the dock next to a small paddling boat. He set down their daughter while he untied the rope bounding their transportation that would take them away from Hermione. Quickly, she hopped up to her feet and dashed towards them. "Must you go? Please don't. I love you, Draco, and I want you to stay."

He tossed the rope into the boat and grabbed her by the shoulders and smashed their lips together, his palms squishing her face. He then pulled away far too soon and growled, "I have to leave. If I don't, neither will you."

Her vision blurred, her throat swelling thickly. Hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she reached for him, her fingers grasping his wrist. "I'm sorry," she said and he sighed, clutching the back of her head and pulling her into a kiss once more.

"I know," he mumbled into her lips. "And I am, too. For many thing but mostly for keeping you. I just couldn't resist having you one last time."

He let go of her, and she watched helplessly as he picked up Eliza and set her down in the boat. A warm wind swept around the little girl and tousled her light blonde, curly hair.

"Mommy," the girl whimpered and stretched her hand towards Hermione.

Draco climbed into the boat, the contraption teetering a bit from the added weight and held the girl close to him, whispering something into her ear as her bottom lip jutted out. He pressed his mouth firmly against her round cheek and kissed her, rubbing her tiny back in comfort and cooed, "We all have to leave, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

Hermione sniffled and fluttered her eyes closed, wiping them. Giving herself a few moments, she reopened them and gaped at where Draco and Eliza had been in the boat. The boat was now gone as were the two occupants. All that remained was the rippling water. She dipped a toe in and goose-bumps traveled up her body, causing a shudder to rack her body. Inhaling deeply, she stretched her hands high above her head and dove into the lake.

* * *

_**Recall on all Nimbus 5000s: Brooms Endangering the Riders from Faulty Workmanship**_

Pursing his lips in intrigue, Lucius read the article and was rather grateful he had not purchased a Nimbus 5000. Not that he needed one. He was much too old to be flying about like a young man again, but Alexander most certainly needed a decent broom and pish-posh to what his mother thought. If the child wanted to fly, then he should be allowed to.

While scanning over the Quidditch section of the _Daily Prophet, _Mippy appeared next to him with a bow and hastily informed him, "Master, the young Master's mother has awakened."

"Has she?" he asked, vastly rising to his feet.

"She tries to get out of bed but is weak. Limper and Phinny are fetching the young Master's mother some water."

Lucius straightened his robes and walked out of his office, giving Mippy an assignment. "Do alert Healer Bogrov and tell my wife, as well."

"Should Mippy tell young Master, as well?"

"Not yet. He is occupied with his tutor at the moment but do fetch Blaise for me. He should be in the library with Alexander and his tutor. Keep this matter discreet from the boy until further notice."

"Yes, Master." Mippy bowed and Disapparated.

Lucius came to the threshold of Miss Granger's room and knocked on the door before entering and saw the woman lying still but her chest moved erratically up and down and the sheets around her were bunched. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with wetness gathering beneath the bottom lashes above her freckled cheeks which were pinking, a severe contrast to their former paleness.

"Miss Granger, how are you feeling?" he gingerly asked her, journeying further into the room and summoning a chair closer to the bed but keeping a respectable distance.

She turned her head to stare at him, her brow damp and furrowed. Hoarsely, she spoke, "Alex."

"Is fine, but how are you feeling?" he repeated. "Do you hurt?"

He watched her swallow and turn towards the door when a knock interrupted them. Blaise entered and nodded at him. "With all do respect, Mr. Malfoy, I think it would be best if I spoke with her for the time being."

Seeing his point, Lucius sniffed and agreed, "Fair enough," and left the room, his wife standing close to the door, hint of relief in her demeanor.

"Talk to me, Granger," Blaise said after closing the double doors behind him. He sat where Lucius had been and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "How are you feeling? The healer is on his way to check on you, but please tell me if you are uncomfortable in anyway. Do you need anything?"

She let out a harsh, ragged breath and said, "Alex."

"He's in the library and perfectly fine. Misses you like crazy, though."

Her frowned deepened. "Misses me?"

Blaise paused before nodding and stroked his chin, knowing no other way to break the news to her gently. "Hermione, you've been in a coma for nearly a month."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you readers, reviewers, followers, and such.

**Thanks: Anjali Katari, Woemcat, Angelus Draco, Aya Diefair, Meggzy101, hkmac, Jessica682, and Team Dramione for the reviews. I got some lovely feedback. Thanks again.**

I got some comments and concerns, especially on how I ended the last chapter. I hope this update didn't upset anyone too much.

**Anjali Katari:** I agree about how the movies portrayed the war. And though I think the books and films were really cool, as a Slytherin, I felt my House was given injustice. We're not all evil, and I think you commented on that quite nicely. Thank you for the personal touches on your reviews. I truly enjoy reading them. Yours and your parents story is incredible. I truly appreciate your feedback.

Also, I'm glad Ron and Pansy's background story was entertaining for you guys. :) I enjoyed writing it.

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter. Read and Review, please. I'm sorry for any mistakes. I shall do a clean-sweep in the future but for now, it is what it is.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N:** Hey, Everybody. I'm sorry for the delay. Summer classes and family duties have kept me from writing.

But thanks to everyone: readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favored this fic.

**Thank you to: Pumpkindream, DanaBlood, Elsyia1, Kou Shun'u, Angelus Draco, Anjali Katari, Woemcat, Aya Diefair, callalily32, Guest, hkmac, alina290, Jessica682, Vidocin666, Angel Girl5, and Svetlyachochek for the reviews. I sure appreciate them a lot.**

I got a really good question/comment/point. It was pointed out that in Hermione's coma dream, Alex was there and if the dream was really limbo, then how was he there. I'll answer it this way, and I hope it doesn't make anyone angry, but the sequence is up to interpretation. I will let my readers decide if the dream was a true representation of limbo or purely concocted in Hermione's imagination where she desires to see her daughter and Draco and wants to be forgiven by him. Also, on this note, if you recall, Hermione did ask Draco if Cass/Eliza really had her eyes giving the impression that she's semi-aware that what she's in isn't real life. *shrugs* I hope this didn't upset anyone too much.

So some of my reviewers asked some questions earlier back about certain things, and I kind of blatantly ignored them to not give away spoilers. I actually debated about this decision, but I'm going with it. Let's hope it doesn't throw a kink in my story.

Please enjoy the chapter. Send me comments, questions, and the like and I will do my best in answering them.

* * *

"Please refrain from exiting the bed, Granger. I assume your strength his fickle at the moment." Blaise got up from his seat, his hands out towards Hermione's squirming body. Though her cheeks were flushed from life and eyes widened in alarm, her movement was slackened and strained. She was still incredibly weak, her body had yet adjusted to the abrupt awakening, her lungs not like they were before. And he doubted those organs were fantastic to begin with from the way she burned her way through those cigarettes.

"I need to see Alex. How could I have...?" Her voice drifted and she managed to roll over onto her knees, the comforter acting like a sticky constrictor, preventing her from doing much, other than tire herself out even further.

A sigh escaped from Blaise as he placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her from moving. "You're not ready to entertain an eight year old. You can't even get out of this bed. Look at you. You look like you've run miles. Lay back down, and I'll have Mippy make you some broth. We can wait until your healer arrives and assures your health. I imagine he has quite a load to tell you."

"Bugger off!" she spat and wiggled away from him, finally able to shirk the heavy material of the duvet away from her. She got to the edge of the bed and peered down at the floor, a disconcerting frown on her face, like it seemed farther down than she would have preferred. Blaise watched half-amused and half-worried as she gripped one of the posters and carefully wriggled towards the edge of the mattress.

"Can you even walk?" he asked.

She did not answer right away but let a few seconds pass by before replying hesitantly, "I…I don't know. I can feel my legs, but I'm not sure if I can…Blaise, will you please help me down?"

"Sure, if I wanted a lashing from your healer. Can't you be patient? Healer Bogrov will be here soon, assure that you are well and _then_ you can see Alex."

With her hand still on the poster, she settled her bum back on the mattress, her head shaking as was her voice. "I just…A month? That long? There must be some…" Her words faded when hearing mutterings coming from the hallway. One of the double doors opened and in stepped a balding short man with round, golden-framed glasses and behind him was Lucius.

"No, no, no," the healer said and waved his hands at Blaise and then turned around to do the same to Lucius. "I will not have you in here will I examine my patient. Out, out, out."

Hermione relaxed slightly at the Russian wizard's words, being sure to pin a glare on Lucius fluttering robe as he hurriedly exited the room, for this was truly an awful situation. If she had been unconscious for a month, what had gone on? Honestly, it made her ill just thinking about it. When she attempted to divert her attention away from the subject onto the plain, starchy material of the comforter, she actually started to feel woozy, her vision slanting slightly to the side.

"Oh," she whimpered and placed a hand on her forehead and another on her stomach. With little grace, she fell to her side and groaned, "I don't feel so well."

"Expected," the healer stated crisply and placed a comforting hand on her forearm. "Let me help you to your pillows, dear girl."

She was able to slither her way up to the pillows, her mind fogging and brain throbbing. Unable to even resist any sort of treatment, Healer Bogrov checked her pulse, lymph nodes, eye-dilation, and temperature.

"Your natural speaking voice will return to you in a couple of days," the healer informed while probing once again at her throat with his wand. He removed his glasses and rubbed out some smudges with his robe. "As for your strength, it's another matter. It is far more than just recuperating from being comatose. Did Mr. Zabini divulge you any details of what occurred after your accident?"

"He did not, sir," she said softly, her eyelids feeling heavy as did her limbs. It was like they were solid clubs of stone sinking into a large batch of warm bread dough.

"Hmmm." He nodded and snapped his fingers, and a house-elf appeared with a bow. "Hot bowl of broth for the lady."

The elf bowed and disappeared, quickly returning with a tray of broth, salted crackers, and some water. Healer Bogrov took the tray and placed it over Hermione's torso. Lethargically, she gazed at the contents and lifted a tired hand to her spoon. She supposed she was hungry of sorts.

"You eat," the healer told her gruffly, "and I will explain what happened."

She nodded and licked her lips at the broth. The steaming, salty liquid smelt like everything her body needed. With a shaky hand, she dipped the spoon into the bowl and lifted a small amount to her lips, slurping carefully as to not burn her mouth or tongue.

"You nearly left us, Miss Granger," Healer Bogrov said gently and put his glasses back on. "Gave everyone quite a scare, but with some quick spell-work on your friend's part, Mr. Nott, and with my assistance, you were able to pull through."

An hour passed and during that time, she finished her broth and nibbled on one of the crackers and drank all the water as instructed by the healer. He prattled on about the effects of the drowning and how she could no longer smoke or else suffer painful consequences and an even shorter lifespan. He told her that she would need to take care of herself as in 'take into consideration' of her food choices along with pursuing a light exercise routine. He gave her a few suggestions on that but with caution, not wanting her to overexert her lungs which were ridden with scar tissue from nearly bursting from river water and pneumonia.

"You will be prone to respiratory illnesses, Miss Granger. I strongly advise you keep to my words, and I know it will be difficult, especially with a child. I suggest you keep him as healthy as possible, too. Little ones easily contract colds, flus, and the like, and they tend to share with their mothers. Now here is a dosage of an antibiotic." He pulled out a syringe full of a light orange liquid and gestured to her arm. She rolled up the sleeve of her robe and watched as he wiped a small sanitizing cloth below her shoulder before sticking the needle in. She winced at the sting and felt the potion spread through her body like a cold tidal wave in her veins. The medicine did not really make her feel any different, but she supposed that was normal. It wasn't to make her feel better but to prevent her from feeling worse.

"Will I need to be on any medicine for a while?" she asked.

Healer Bogrov nodded his head and pulled out a small pamphlet and quill set, jotting down a prescription on the small square piece of parchment.

"Two capfuls of this a day. One in the morning and one at night. Be sure to eat before partaking."

"Of course." She took the slip of parchment and read the messy scrawl. "I'll…I'll go to the apothecary as soon as I can. Thank you. Is it all right if I see my son now?"

"Yes, and do take care of yourself." He shuffled over to the double doors and tilted his head at her. "Have a good day and a Happy Christmas in case we don't cross paths for a while."

"You, as well," Hermione said.

"And you should rest some more before doing much else today. I know you've been away for a while, but I can tell you are very tired."

He left her alone, and she had to admit he was right. She was exhausted, but she couldn't surpass the thought of seeing Alex again. He must've been terrified seeing her falling into the water and not returning. At the thought, tears prickled her eyes, and she maneuvered up into a more respectful sitting position and scooted towards the edge of the bed. With the help of the bedside table, she was able to gingerly place her feet on the cold marble flooring of the room. Bracing herself for a few moments, she took a step forward and another, her legs feeling like half-cooked noodles.

When she got closer to the doors, one of them opened and Blaise entered, his eyebrows rising in mild-alarm at her near escape.

"So stubborn," he accused.

"I want to see Alex _now_," she demanded hoarsely and if she had the energy, she would have childishly stomped her foot.

"Mommy!" she heard from the other side of the door, and her son came torpedoing through in a mantra of "Mommies". The first thing Hermione noticed was his flushed, teary-streaked face and the next was how much thinner he was. His cheeks weren't plumpish and round anymore, and clearly she could see the making of sharp features. And it wasn't like he appeared underfed or malnourished; he mostly looked very much like his father's side of the family. More than ever, Alex looked like Draco and…and his hair was very short.

"Button," she called to him and knelt down to gather him in her arms, her heart warming as his own arms clung to her. She rubbed his back and messaged her fingers into the base of his skull, testing his new do with distrust.

"Mommy, I missed you so much," he blubbered into her shoulder.

Cupping his face, she peppered kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and chin and then said, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I'm here now and look at you." Her thumbs swiped at his falling tears. "You look like you grew a little and your hair, it's short. All your curls are gone."

Blaise made an uncomfortable coughing sound and Alex thickly informed, "Grandmother and Grandfather Malfoy make sure I eat all of my vegetables before I have any sweets, and last week they invited a lady over who cut my hair."

At his confession, rage boiled inside of Hermione. In one meager sentence, it was like all of her months-worth of questions were answered, and she was far passed a little miffed.

Patting her son on the cheek and giving him a small smile, letting him know how much she loved him, she then stood up and glared at Blaise.

"Zabini, so help, if he stayed _here_ and you let him, I will-"

"He didn't," he rushed out, shaking his head. "He stayed with me. _ You_ stayed here, though. Obviously. But he was here at the Manor often. With his tutors-"

"Tutors!" she shrilled. "I said I was going to supervise those sessions, Blaise! Typical! They probably were ecstatic about my incapacitation!"

Blaise lifted a calming hand and said, "I attended all the sessions, Granger. All of the tutors were in line."

"You and I have very different views on what it means being _in line_," she hissed and then suddenly felt quite lightheaded, her knees weakening and begging to surrender to gravity. Blaise started towards her, but she held up a hand to stop him. "I'm fine. What I'd really like is to go home. Back to Salem. I've had _enough_." There was no longer anger in her voice, only exhaustion. "Alex has met Draco's parents and spent more than enough time with them. If the need for tutors is still in place, the States have sufficient ones that can be hired. I want to go home, Blaise."

"But Mommy," Alex sniffled, his damp cheek resting against her stomach, his tears soaking through the robe. "There's going to be a Christmas party in a couple of weeks, and Grandmother Narcissa already got my dress robes for it."

"Of course she did," murmured Hermione and glared at Blaise again like everything that had happened within the last month was his fault. "But we can have a Christmas party back home."

"But Daddy won't be there."

"Oh, Alex." She sighed and caressed his cheeks and softly explained, "He won't be here either. You know that."

"But he is, Mommy," he said earnestly and grabbed her hand. "I'll show you."

Hermione disallowed the boy to take her on his mad excursion and shot Blaise a question glance who very suddenly seemed nervous and was scratching at his day old stubble.

"Explain," she said to him as her child persisted on tugging her hand with audible grunts.

"His portrait is done, Granger."

Her heart flung itself towards the back of her throat at the revelation, unable to formulate sentences but only a single questioning word. "Portrait?"

"He's in Grandfather's office. Let's go see him right now," said Alex, pulling on her hand with all his strength, causing her to teeter slightly.

"Alex," Blaise piped in when seeing the shocked, ill expression on Hermione, most likely wracked with alarm at what was revealed. "I think your ten minute break has concluded. It's time for you to return to the library and finish your lesson with Professor Badgekiss. Your mum is still tired and probably wants to freshen up before taking a trip to see Draco."

"You mean the lesson's not cancelled?" the boy whined and sighed loudly. "But this is important! My mom woke up."

"You only have an hour left and can wait."

Hermione frowned at the authoritativeness in the man's voice directed at her son. There was so many things wrong about the entire situation at hand. Draco had a portrait and was here in the manor where Alex had spoken with him. Along with that, Blaise had somehow thought it was his right to take over as the guardian of her son in her absence. But the most frightening, sickening part was that her boy was addressing Draco's parents and Grandmother and Grandfather. Gods, it had only been a month. Not that much can change in that short amount of time, could it?

"No," Hermione said quietly but firmly. "He stays with me."

And much to her dismay, Blaise glowered at her and replied sharply, "He needs to tend to his studies, Hermione. An hour is not a long time, and you're a slight breeze away from passing out. You need to rest, and he needs to finish his work."

"Don't tell me what we need!" she snapped. "Alex is mine, and I will decide what he needs, and I say he doesn't need to return to his tutor today! He wasn't even supposed to be tutored without my presence! Did you forget or not care?"

"The latter," spat Blaise, his own temper rising.

The corners of Alex's mouth drooped, and he began backing away from the yelling grownups and towards the hallway. They continued to bicker as he left the room and started down the hallways of the manor, his mom's and Blaise's arguing drifting after him and around the corner until he could no longer hear them. He pondered the idea of going back to the library like Blaise wanted him to, but his mom said he didn't have to, yelling something about how she was supposed to be there. If the tutoring sessions were supposed to be supervised with another adult, then it was unnecessary in returning to his teacher.

That fat old bat could wait.

He arrived at the main level and nervously whipped his head back and forth for any sign of an adult. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be wandering the halls without a grownup. It had something to do with the Malfoy family portraits or something. He wasn't sure what, really, but he doubted a white-haired old fart with an unpronounceable name trapped inside a canvas and unable to speak was going to cause him trouble. It's not like they could tattle on him anyway. Alex was actually pretty sure he could do more harm to them if given the chance.

Speaking of…

His grandfather's office door was left ajar, and he poked his head into the room to make sure the man was gone. Alex was unsure where the man went, but he thought he overheard him and Grandmother talking about a lawyer with Blaise or something. Why suddenly they needed to talk to one, the boy wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had a few free minutes to talk with his dad without the man's parents looming over his shoudler. They were great and all, buying him stuff and whatnot, but they never left him alone. Blaise, too. He knew they were trying to be helpful with his mom being in the state she was in, but he thought when he chose to start talking again a week-in-a-half ago, they'd lay off.

When Alex's mother had her accident, and he was not allowed to see her, he hadn't felt like talking. A week later when he was granted permission to visit her, he'd received hope that she would get better and wake up. The healer told his grandfather his mom should wake up in a few days or maybe a week. Four weeks had passed, during which the boy had to slowly come out of his rut of not speaking. His grandfather was quite adamant he begin taking again when his tutor for magical history arrived. With potions, the boy was able to get by only listening and doing what he was told, but this old fat bat asked questions and expected an answer and didn't find it cute when he answered with his response on a piece of parchment.

Blaise had been nice about his decision not to talk and even pled with the tutor to consider not verbally drilling Alex on the information he learned, but Professor Badgekiss had only sniffed with a scandalized stare, appalled that anyone dared even invade on her style of teaching.

Mr. Snape had been the one to succeed in getting Alex to speak again. During his nights at Blaise's apartment, Alex often felt lonely in the big bed without his mom, so he disobeyed her orders and paid a visit to the room across the hallway where Mr. Snape and Mr. Zabini dwelt. Mr. Zabini was very nice when he told him about his mom, and Mr. Snape merely frowned and made a tutting sound.

Alex talked about everything with them, but mostly he preferred to listen to Mr. Snape. He had really cool stories about his time teaching as a professor at Hogwarts. His stories often contained characters of less than remarkable skills in the 'art of potions'. Alex had once asked if there was any special person who was really good at potions that he could remember.

Mr. Snape had not answered right away but pursed his lips pensively, and Mr. Zabini haughtily piped up that Blaise had been more than decent, recalling how the lad came home on holidays with impressive test scores.

In a nasally, bored tone, Mr. Snape had replied, _"Your son was mediocre at best, Michaelo."_

That had started a very loud shouting match between the two, startling Alex and striking anxiety within his belly, afraid Blaise would wake up and catch him. He hurriedly shuffled back into his bed and forced himself to fall asleep. The next time he visited them, no arguments broke out which was nice, and Mr. Snape encouraged him that even though he knew him too be upset over his mother's accident, it was time move on. And that following morning when Blaise took Alex to the manor, his grandparents told him that Draco's portrait was finished.

Like he thought, Grandfather Lucius' office was empty save for Draco's portrait above the mantle of the fireplace. Quietly, he tiptoed further into the large room and saw his father lounging in a lush, overstuffed armchair with his head rested on his hand with a dull expression, appearing bored out of his mind.

"Daddy," he called to him and avoided rushing too close to the portrait. It was high up, and Alex didn't want to strain his neck from tilting his head back so far, so he settled on the couch facing the flames in the fire-pit and peered up at his father.

The man instantly stiffened at his son's voice and then lax with a pleased, encouraging grin directed at the boy. Behind the frames, he leaned over with his elbows on his knees and said, "My boy, have you finally escaped the grownups and come visit me?"

"Yes." Alex bobbed his head up and down and swung his legs in excitement. "Good news, too. Mom's awake. She's finally awake, Dad, and angrier than ever."

His father scooted further off his chair at the words, his eyes wide and serious. "Where is she? Does she know that I'm here?"

Alex bobbed his head up and down. "Yes."

Draco clicked his heel on the floor in his painted world as if he were waiting for the boy to say something else. After a few passing seconds, he gestured to his son with open hands. "Well…is…is she going to come see me?"

Alex shrugged. "Probably but she's busy right now."

"Doing?"

"Yelling at Mr. Zabini."

His father scoffed and leaned back into his chair, swinging leg so his right ankle rested on his knee. "Of course she bloody is. I shouldn't be so surprised that she's not in a hurry to see me. But aside from that," he paused and clasped his hands together, "was she looking well?"

"No," Alex answered honestly and bunched his knees up underneath his chin, putting his shoes on the expensive dragon-hide leather couch. His bottom lip puckered out at the memory of what his mother looked like and said, "She looks sick, Daddy. Grandfather says that she's going to have to do a whole bunch of things to get healthy."

"And you make sure she does them, Scorpius," his father said gravely. "You make sure that-"

"Thought I would find you here," announced Blaise from the office entrance and closed the door behind him. "Brushing off your studies at the first chance you get. He's very much like you, Draco."

"I can see my dad," argued Alex and stuck out his chin in defiance and sent a pleading look up to his father. "Can't I? I can see you. You're my dad."

His father's mouth twitched at the corners and he drawled, "I don't know, Scorpius. Your studies are important. What subject is today?"

"History of Magic," snarled the boy and folded his arms in protectiveness, hating that his father wasn't sticking up for him.

"I do hope you're not being taught by that large bag-lady Badgekiss. Please don't tell me she outlived even me? For Salazar's sake, she taught _my_ father."

"It's her. She's the one, and she's awful. She smells like wet garlic and swamp."

"Then by all means, my darling boy, evade her as often as possible. Evade anyone who is immune to pouting mouths and teary eyes. It will not benefit you in the future to be associated with such individuals, especially the ones who smell ghastly."

Alex giggled and Blaise let out a mixture of a scoff and a snort. The child wished his dad was really here and that he could hug him or something. He knew that this moving portrait of the man was not really his father but merely a part of magic. This figure had a small part of his father's soul which included memories and emotions and physical likeness, but he knew his father was gone just like Mr. Snape and Mr. Zabini were gone.

Alex's mood darkened at the thought and his smile faded. Softly, he asked Blaise, "Where's my mom?"

Blaise cleared his throat and awkwardly shifted on his feet. He didn't fancy telling the boy about how the woman fainted after tossing him an impressively rude insult. If he wasn't such a gentleman, he would have watched her fall to the floor without a care. But the last thing anyone in the household needed was for Granger to have another bleedin' accident, so he caught her and placed her gracelessly back in bed.

"She's sleeping," he said. "She was very tired."

"Didn't she want to come see Dad?"

Blaise didn't answer, but Draco interceded with a suggestion that he go check on her. The boy agreed and left the room, unknowingly abandoning the awkward tension in the room. When they were both sure Alex was out of earshot, Draco jumped in, "Tell me everything. How is she? How long do we have until my parents return? Merlin, they've either lied to me directly, avoided the truth, or were purposefully vague. Start from the beginning and don't spare any details. How did my parents _really_ find out about Scorpius?"


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N:** Thank you to all my patient readers, reviewers, and followers as well as those who have favored this fic.

**Thank you: MMMWillow13, Barabelle, sweetangelrock, Helen Montegro, hkmac, Angelus Draco, Anjali Katari, Aya Diefair, alina290, EEG, Angel Girl5, and Guest for the reviews.**

I've been getting some comments on how hated Theodore is. Hmmm, interesting. I confess, though, I did not write him particularly likeable, but this is how I see him. He's cold and reserved. (Probably kind of pretty, too). I reckon his dad was totally off his rocker or something. Probably made Lucius look like father of the year and rainbows and ponies. Theodore may or may not have a thing for Hermione as discussed in a some earlier chapter, but the story isn't really even about that, so...yeah. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that it's cool that some of my readers don't like him but please don't feel threatened by him. I'm not going to make this fic even more dramatic and have Hermione helplessly get lost in some corner of hell where she gets sexually assaulted by him _or anyone_ and has even more issues to deal with. I think only so much can happen to one character before it becomes unrealistic and morphs into a cheese-fest when I'm really only shooting for mozzarella appetizers. :) (Yum)

On that note I apologize for the not so quick update. I hope my readers are not too angry with me, but I present Chapter 44 now in consolation. It's not that wonderful, but I hope it'll be enough. Read and review and tell me your thoughts.

(Oh, and assume Mrs. Greengrass' maiden names is Dane. Just in case anyone gets confused. And my French is no good, so I'm sorry if it's wrong, but it's supposed to say, "You are pretty." Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes. I really did try my best to eliminate all of them.)

* * *

"It's like you don't care," Daphne snapped while stiffly adding four heaping teaspoons of sugar into her tea, her engagement ring catching the light of the small chandelier above her and her fiancé. That ring had been on her finger for nearly three years. Aside from having the jewelry professionally cleaned once a month, its presence on her hand remained constant. It had not been replaced with a wedding ring, nor had it been added to with a matching band.

She stirred the sugar crystals into her tea and gently tapped the spoon on the rim, waiting for Theodore to respond. He was sitting across from her with the business section of the _Daily Prophet _in his hands and a cigarette clenched between his lips. Knowing that he was not one to answer right away, she gave him time to respond and like clockwork, exactly twelve seconds later, he mumbled distantly through his closed mouth, "I don't."

She knew he'd say that.

"Theodore." She reached over the table and gripped the top of the newspaper, pulling it away from him and ignoring his brief look of annoyance. "Will we ever be more than what we are?"

Finishing the last drag of his cigarette, he stubbed it into the ashtray near his tea and stoically reminded her, "We had date set, remember? We agreed next April, but then you changed your mind four hours later."

"It wasn't so black and white," she defended with a frown. "If you recall, you agreed to April 15th, went to play Quidditch with your friends, came back and told me…" Her voice faded while her fingers messaged her temple, halting her words at the memory of her fiancé stumbling through the Floo, haunted and frighteningly angry as he shouted the news of Draco's death. "It wouldn't have been fair to Astoria, having me get married when she was supposed to. I changed my mind for her. I didn't want her hurting more than necessary. All I'm trying to say is that you have not urged me into another date."

"Daphne," Theodore started, sighing as he patted his pockets for his precious metal box. He found it in his inner coat pocket and flicked it open. "Blast, I'm out. As I was saying, you changed your mind. What confuses me, darling, is that you are troubled about my lack of participation in this engagement. From the moment you demanded a ring, we both knew the wedding was not going to happen for quite some time. We both had priorities, obligations, whatnot."

"I didn't think it was going to be this _long_ of an engagement. Three years is a long time, and I'm scared we're getting too comfortable."

"I'm never comfortable."

Daphne smiled a little and rested her head on her hand. "I know, but my mum's getting worried. A Greengrass nor a Dane has ever married after twenty-five. It kills her Astoria and I aren't married yet. _Although_, Mum's not giving sis near as much flack as she used to."

Theodore stared at her from behind his black-rimmed glasses, his gaze focused and morbid. Even when Stumpy came and delivered the post, setting it next to the man's saucer, he didn't even blink. When the elf disapparated, Theo leaned back in his chair and revealed, "I paid a visit to my father yesterday during my lunch break."

Closing her eyes, Daphne sucked in a deep calming breath as she counted to ten inside her head. Never had Theodore admitted to visiting his father in Azkaban, but did he have to change the subject now? Ever since Draco had passed, it was like her fiancé had become even more closed off than possible. It was almost mockery that he brought up his dad when she was trying to move to the next level of their relationship.

In other words, she was trying to fix the rut that Draco Bloody Malfoy caused.

Of course she couldn't place the blame all on him. She and Theo had done damage all on their own, but it seemed what Draco did was irreversible.

"Oh," she whispered delicately and decided to steal of gulp of her tea. "And how was he?"

"Draco's portrait is finished."

_Goddamn him!_

Slamming the cup back on her saucer, earning that _blink_ from Theodore, and stood up from her seat. With her chest heaving and a hand on her ribcage, she wheezed, "You don't want to get married, do you?"

Grabbing a letter opener from his pocket, he cut open the post the elf gave him while asking, "To you or in general?"

Her ring caught the chandelier light again, and she mirthlessly chuckled and abruptly hissed, "Theodore! You are being a prat! We need to figure this out. We need to-"

"Later," he murmured while his eye scanned the post. "Apparently Lucius and Narcissa are in the drawing-room. I'll give them your best."

Mutely, she watched as he got up from his chair and kissed her cheek, tight-lipped and teetering on the edge hysterics, not so much as being angry with him. Daphne could not place a time in hers and Theodore's relationship where she wasn't peeved at him for something or other. No, her fury was strictly reserved for the Malfoys, inviting that Granger tart and her illegitimate son into their home like they could care less about Astoria's feelings. Her sister had loved their son and had planned on marrying him, and it was like she was some common street-slag used for yesterday's business.

Theodore disappeared down the hallway when Daphne noticed another envelope that the house-elf had given to him with Lucius' note. She reached over and snagged it, reading her fiancé's full name in silver loopy lettering. Slicing it open with his letter opener, she found an invitation to the annual Christmas Ball the Malfoys organized at their manor every year. Naturally, Theodore would comply with the invitation, and that boy of Draco's would be there, as well. And if the child was there, Granger's presence would also be there, and Daphne's and hers previous encounter had been far too short. The eldest Greengrass still had words to say to the woman.

Daphne tapped the card on her chin thoughtfully before setting it down and draining the rest of her tea.

As did Astoria.

* * *

"Theodore," Lucius greeted from the seat closest to the fireplace. He sat with one leg over the other with a smoking pipe in hand. "You kept us waiting. How's Daphne?"

"Fine. Mr. Malfoy." Theodore nodded and then stooped down to brush a kiss against Narcissa's cheek. She was sitting in the middle of the sofa looking prim and elegant as always. "Mrs. Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Some news and a favor, I declare," Lucius formally replied. "I hear you've built yourself quite a reputation as a domestic solicitor."

"It's something I do when the Aurors are having an off-season. Why so interested?" Theodore leaned against the ledge of the fireplace's mantle.

Dragging a long puff from his pipe, Lucius flicked his focus at his wife and then said, "Miss Granger has awoken up from her comatose state, fortunately. However, these past few weeks have gotten my wife and I thinking about certain legal matters."

"Of what we know, Miss Granger does not have a guardian in place for Alexander," Narcissa paused to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek and then continued, "It would be ever so kind of you to counsel her. Though I doubt another tragedy will occur, after what happened, Lucius and I don't want to take any chances."

At the mention of Hermione's awakening, Theodore pursed his lips ever so slightly and then tuned in on what the couple had to say. After letting a few seconds of silence pass between the three of them, he verified by saying, "You want me to persuade Miss Granger leaving the boy to you in case of any tragedy that may befall her. Sounds like Blaise would have better progress, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Yet, alas, he's not the one with the license and the legal forms."

"We did not say to _us_, Theodore," Narcissa thinly explained.

"But it was implied."

Agitatedly, she stated, "The boy needs a stable environment if something were to happen to his mother."

"As an attorney, Mrs. Malfoy," he turned to Lucius knowingly smirked, "and Mr. Malfoy. Though you two are not officially my clients but as respected family friends, I advise you in contemplating possible consequences if something were to incidentally, yet, terminally happen to Miss Granger. If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Weasley suspected foul play upon Miss Granger's frigid swim. It mustn't have been pleasant when Mr. Potter interrogated you two, not to mention the deal you must've struck with him and Mr. Weasley to keep what happened out of the paper. If something were to happen again, I suspect you will not be as lucky."

"What are you insinuating, Theodore?" Narcissa asked reprovingly, a lace covered hand resting over her chest.

"I spent far too many galleons on Miss Granger's health in the past five weeks, Mr. Nott, to get rid of her now," Lucius icily said.

"Will you please have a meeting with her?" begged his wife. "I'm sure she'll at least listen. You did save her, after all."

His wristwatch told Theodore he was due in ten minutes at the Wizengamot in representing his client who had been accused of killing her husband with a Jelly-Legged Jinx as he walked down the stairs for a midnight snack. After that, he had another case where his mentally unstable client who wanted full of custody of his three children.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you don't mind, I may stop by for a nightcap tomorrow evening after work. If Miss Granger is up to par, then she is welcome to join me. Don't let her keep me waiting."

* * *

Great Gods, she looked atrocious!

"Are you all right, Mom?" Alex asked from his spot at the threshold of the loo, his head resting against the door frame as Hermione studied her reflection with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Cupping her face, she messaged her cheeks vigorously in hopes of bringing some color back to the sickeningly pale skin. There was no way she could pay a visit to Draco in such a state.

"How was your father?" She dodged his question with something much more interesting than her well-being. She obviously was not going to tell her son she felt awful and partially wanted to die, and lying was too much of a tiring hassle, anyway. Changing the subject to something both of them were interested in was the best way to go.

"He's good, I guess. Blaise was talking with him when I left. Probably about grown up stuff."

A ghost of a smile formed on Hermione's lips at imagining Blaise kicking back in an armchair with a drink, saluting Draco in his portrait while they discussed the Falcons. She wasn't sure where that image came from, but it seemed suitable for them both.

Her hair was lanky but surprisingly not frizzy nor was it greasy like it should be from being in a comatose state for weeks. In fact, she felt pretty clean. Glancing at her nails, they were well-groomed and even polished with a clear lacquer.

Leaning closer, she studied her eyebrows, wiggling them up and down and then running a finger over her left one. They were perfectly coifed and shaped with soft, elegant arches.

Okay, perhaps she didn't look all bad, though her eyes were lifeless with bluish-grey smudges underneath, but it pained her to admit that she had been well taken care of while unconscious. Most likely by Narcissa's command. She highly doubted Lucius was all that concerned with her physical appearance.

Her hands gripped the silk tie of her robe and tightened it and then ran them over her waist, her eyes studying the narrower size of it. Merlin, she hadn't been this thin since before she was pregnant with Alex and if her small form had happened by healthier circumstance, she would have been elated. Now, she was depressed, especially since nothing sounded good to eat except broth.

In the mirror, her vision caught Alex's gaze and she smiled at him, her hands slipping into the pockets of her robe when a frightening revelation penetrated her mind.

"My wand," she gasped and whirled around to face her son. "My wand. Where is my wand?"

Her son frowned and opened his mouth to reply when she heard Blaise calling for her in the bedroom.

"Granger?"

Brushing past Alex, she mercilessly flung her question at Blaise who was glaring at the mussed, empty bed. "Where is my wand?!"

"Why are you out of bed? You need to rest more. You-"

"Where is my wand?" she repeated curtly. A part of her knew the whereabouts of her wand and was hoping to get at least a sympathetic look from Blaise, but what she received was a peeved expression at her stupid question.

"You know it's gone. It wasn't on you when Theo fished you out," he flatly pointed out.

Growling at her loss, she completely bypassed the last part of Blaise's explanation. Damn it, she didn't want to get a new wand. It had taken her almost a year after the war to get the bloody thing to cooperate, the previous owner being Bellatrix Lestrange. After that, though, it had performed for her nicely and smoothly, never giving her any grief. It was kind of like adopting a young child who remembered its belated birth mother but still needed the tender love and care from the new mummy. It had just needed a little bit of affection was all.

"I need a wand, Blaise." She tapped her bare foot on the floor, then realizing how cold her toes were. Curling them, she folded her arms and shivered.

"We'll worry about that later, but I think Alex and I both agree that you need to be in bed."

"For Merlin's sake, will you stop?!" she shrilled and tossed her arms up in the air. "Stop telling me that I need to be in bed. It's bloody exhausting. I'm fine. I just…I just…I need to go to Diagon Alley."

"You are in no condition-"

"Then come with me if you're so fluffing worried. But with or without your approval, I'm going. I _need_ a wand, and it's not up for debate."

Blaise scratched the back of his neck with, exasperation in his demeanor. "If you're recognized, the press will be alerted, and you'll be swarmed within minutes. They're still out there."

Hermione folded her arms and jutted out her chin. "It's been nearly six weeks. Hasn't anything better happened?"

"Well, the story did take the back burner for a few days when there was a national recall on all Nimbus racing brooms. That blew over fairly quickly, especially when people found out that you were no longer in the States and started assuming you were here. Furthermore, Lucius and Narcissa think it's best to go public with Alex at Christmas."

"What does that mean?" the boy asked from behind his mom. "Going public?"

His question went unanswered, his mother leaping in to bicker with Blaise at an impressive speed. "I don't feel comfortable with that at all. It's one thing to stay until Christmas. I may be persuaded to do that, but having everyone gawk at my son like he's an animal at the zoo is not okay. This can wait longer. I brought him here, so…so…You know? I can't even remember why I agreed to even come. What was I thinking? Everything has gone wrong since setting foot back in England." Rubbing her forehead, she sucked in a sharp, swollen breath. "Why did Draco's parents have to find out about him?"

"But, Mom, they're not _that_ bad," Alex chirped. He came up beside her and rested his head against her hip and hugged her. "They tell me stories of Daddy. Like this one time, when Daddy had been little. Even littler than me. He got ink on his hands and put handprints all over the portraits in the manor. Grandmother really likes that story and so does Grandfather, but he won't say he does."

Gliding her fingers over his shorn locks, she beamed down at her boy and knelt down to grab his hands, placing kisses on his palms. She recalled a tale from Draco years before on how he overtook the manor with his handprints, unaware that his son had overheard in the next room.

"I remember a little boy, not too much younger than you, who did that back home to Mummy's freshly painted walls," she said admonishingly.

Alex dropped his chin and widened his eyes, a petulant pout forming, so she grinned at him and cupped his face, placing a kiss on each cheek before hugging him tightly. Her heart warmed as he contently rested his head on her shoulder, feeling puffs of hot breath on her the side of her neck, being reminded of when he'd been a baby.

It pained her to realize that he was no longer a squirming little body with dribbles and strings of drool oozing out of his grinning mouth. Yes, he would always be her baby, but he wasn't actually one. One day he wouldn't need for her to hold him like this anymore.

"Let me look at you again," she said, casting a side glance at Blaise, mentally telling him to go away so she could spend private time with her son

"Draco demanded that I take you to him," he said.

"He can wait," she coolly replied. "I'd like to talk with Alex for a little while. I barely got to see him earlier before you so rudely argued with me to the point of exhaustion."

Blaise gave her a face and stalked out, muttering insults at her under his breath. Hermione then walked over to the door and closed it and started towards the bed. She'd willingly drink a potion, its only purpose turning skin the color of mashed-pea green before she'd admit to anyone she wanted to rest almost more than anything.

"Darling, come lay next to, Mummy." She patted the bed and climbed up on it, Alex following close behind.

When the two were situated next to each other, both of their heads resting on a pillow with their fingers interlocked, Hermione got an up close view of the boy's shorn head. There was absolutely not a single coiled strand on his scalp. In fact, his hair was so short, it looked like someone had taken one of those Muggle salon contraptions and buzzed his head. This pissed her off due to having spoken with other mums who had chosen to give their curly-haired young sons close-to-the-scalp haircuts, and never again were the boys' hair the same.

It wasn't simply that Hermione adored her son's loopy strands because they were positively the most precious things she ever laid eyes on. Seriously, he was the perfect image of a cherubic angel. No, it wasn't just that. His hair gave her reassurance there was still some Granger in those genes.

That Alex wasn't _all_ Malfoy.

"Oh, sweetheart," she lamented and ran a finger over his buzz-cut, the short stubby strands thick and sharp. "How could you let them cut your hair so short?"

"I told them," he hastily informed, a slight indigent whine in his tone. "I really did. I told Grandfather that you wouldn't like it being so short, but he wouldn't listen because Grandmother really wanted it to look like this. She said that Daddy had his hair this short most of the time when he was my age. They said something about…not as much maint-en-ance or something."

Hermione snorted at that dose of hypocrisy. The Malfoys wrote the book on being high-maintenance, and Draco had been solid proof on that matter.

Which reminded her…

"I'll tell you about high-maintenance, Button, concerning your father," she said, a small wicked smile in place. She'd get to asking questions about her absence during the past month in a little while, but now she really just wanted to spend time with him without Blaise or Draco's parents hiding around the corner.

"What did he do?" asked Alex, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Chuckling, she recounted the tale almost forgotten, leaving out the more intimate parts, and sugar-coating it to a child-friendly level.

* * *

_April 2004_

"Honeymooners," a voice murmured and caught Hermione's attention. Flushing, she reluctantly tore her lips away from Draco's and bashfully looked out from the corner of her eye and noticed many stares directed their way. Not that she could blame them, they were in semi-public setting after all, and snogging unabashedly in a populous hotel lobby was going to turn a few heads.

Draco grunted his dismay of her lack of participation and travelled his lips down to her jaw and then neck, gathering a small expanse of skin between his teeth. Hermione willed her eyes to remain open but failed to hold back the whimper torn from her throat.

"Can't you wait for a few more minutes?" she asked breathily. "The front desk is over there, and I'm afraid we'll get asked to leave if we don't-"

"Hush."

Hermione frowned at the impolite demand and pushed at his shoulders. "Besides, you're squishing the baby."

"He's fine. Hasn't made a peep."

"Not that he could. You're practically suffocating him," she retorted and forced him away to have a proper look-see at Alex. He was wrapped snuggly around her torso in his Bali-Baby Stretch, his head leaning sideways and eyes closed. The pacifier in his mouth bobbed vigorously in his mouth, the outer rim of the guard momentarily pressing into the baby's chubby, flushed cheeks with each earnest suck.

"Not Honeymooners," another voice muttered at seeing the child.

"Why kind of weirdo makes out with his wife in public?" scoffed a young man and Hermione looked at him and glared. How rude! A decent man snogged his wife anywhere he bloody well pleased. Not that she was Draco's wife, but if she had been…

Grabbing Draco's face, she pressed her palms into his cheeks laid a good one on him before saying into his mouth, "I'm glad we're here. This was a good idea."

"This isn't even the best part." He turned her around to face the front desk, slipping his palms in the back pockets of her trousers to push her along, giving her bum a gentle squeeze with each step. When they came to front desk, the clerk made an uncomfortable 'ahem' sound and eyed them pejoratively with an arched brow.

"Can I help you?" he asked slowly and then sniffed, glancing at the baby like the child would then decide to wake up and vomit all over the place.

"I made a reservation under Black," Draco said.

Hermione stiffened at his words and slowly craned her head and narrowed her gaze at him in suspicion. "Ah, Mr. Black. So wonderful of you to be joining us this evening. Here is your key." The clerk slid a brass key towards them. "I hope your stay is enjoyable. If there is anything you need, let us know."

Before accepting the key, Draco verified, "I trust the room is equipped with everything I specified."

The clerk smiled tightly and said, "Though Thwait Hotel and Resort is not designed for infants, all the essentials are in place."

"Good. I assume the luggage will be brought up. I expect it there in a timely matter."

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes as Draco took the key from the counter. He then grabbed her hand and led her towards the elevator. As the door closed, giving them privacy, she asked edgily, "Why did you use the Black name?"

Draco quirked the left corner of his mouth and explained, "Well, I bloody can't well use my real name, can I? Draco Malfoy is supposed to be in Berlin meeting with Rudolph Schultz, a near bankrupt individual looking to sell his cure for baldness."

"I guess that makes sense?" She nodded and placed a hand on Alex's curly head while taking a few steps backwards to rest her back against the wall to take some pressure off her spine. Her baby was a little too big to be carried around in such a way but was more convenient for all three of them. Alex tended to wander off when not being contained by an adult. Plus, he was sleeping, and the Bali-Baby Stretch accommodated him more comfortably than a parent's tiring arms.

"I can't believe you slept so long?" she cooed at her son and petted his hair, stooping her chin to place a kiss on his head. "Must've be tired."

When they got to their floor, they quickly found their room, Draco shoving the key into the glossy golden knob and turning it. As they entered, Hermione smiled at the widely open-spaced entrance leading into a cozy sitting room with chocolate-brown leather couches and a sparkly coffee table that had a bottle of champagne with two glasses. The walls, from what she could see, were painted an ivory-creamy color that met with squishy soft carpet a shade lighter than the furniture.

"This is nice. Wonder what the bedroom looks like," Hermione said aloud and tossed a suggestive look at Draco who was scowling at his surroundings. "What's wrong?"

"It's small," he told her. "Smaller than your flat."

"Hotel rooms aren't usually bigger than an apartment, Draco," Hermione chuckled and took a seat on the couch, awkwardly leaning back to keep Alex comfortable.

"What hotels have you been staying in?" he challenged and snorted at the complimentary champagne and glasses.

"Which ones have you been staying in?" she shot back and shook her head and grinned up at him, holding out her hand to him. Their fingers interlocked and she said, "This is fine. Really. It's very nice. Thank you for taking Alex and me to Augusta for a vacation. Maine is really lovely, and this is truly one of the nicest rooms I've ever been in, and I bet it has a very nice view from the bedroom balcony."

"You must've stayed in shite-infested hotels. This a mating ground for peasants. You deserve better," he sneered and turned up his nose.

Alarmed at his words, she yanked her hand out of his and struggled to get to her feet. It was like being nine months pregnant all over again.

"You are truly unbelievable. This room is perfectly adequate for our needs, and we don't need anything better. _I _don't need anything better, and neither does Alex. It's not like we're going to live here for the rest of our lives. Besides, we haven't even seen the rest yet. I'm sure the bed is accommodating and the bath, too"

"There's no need. A hotel suite is all about first impressions and from what I've seen, I'm disappointed. There's no way I can shag you here and not feel like the walls are closing in on me. We're going back down to the front desk and demanding a better room. For Merlin's sake, this is a joke."

"_You're _a joke, Malfoy." Hermione cocked her hips and placed her hands on them. "You're a joke and a spoilt brat. There are people in the world that could only dream of staying in a room like this. In fact, we passed some on the street outside. People without proper homes and with children to feed. Why are you being like this?"

Draco lowered his focus onto her shoes and shrugged, eventually revealing, "I'm trying to impress you."

"Impress me? You think you can buy my astonishment? I'm sorry, but after Alex, there's nothing you can give me that'll make me love you even more. You've brought me to my limit, Draco Malfoy."

It was supposed to be a romantic gesture, telling Draco that she couldn't possibly love him more. The mood was supposed to be set, and he should have caved and escorted her to the bedroom. But no. Instead, his brows popped towards his hairline as his mouth thinned into a line of neutrality.

"We'll just see about that, won't we?" he growled whilst grabbing her hand again and dragging her out of the room and down the hallway, returning to the elevator.

"Let go of me. You're going to wake the baby," Hermione susurrated and glanced down at Alex, the boy shifting and rubbing his eyes. His binky sprung from his mouth and dangled from the Velcro strap on his collar, a pout formed on his lips. "And if you wake him, so help me, I will not let you touch me _at all_ your entire time with me. It will be just you and your hand for the rest of the trip and until November, you vicious prat."

Expectedly, Draco slowed at the threat but still maneuvered her into the elevator. He pushed the button for the lobby and snarled at her which dissolved when hearing a whimpering cry from Alex. The man's eyes widened in horror and then cringed when an ungodly shriek projected from his son's throat.

The elevator dinged at the main level and the door slid open to reveal a group of witch's and wizards waiting to get on the lift.

"Uh…We'll just use the other one," a gentleman yelled over the baby's wailing and shooed the group to the side.

Hermione covered her blushing face and peered angrily at Draco through her split fingers.

"Bullocks," he cursed and stomped his foot before stabbing the level eight button to return to their room.

* * *

_Present Day_

Alex lay sleeping next to Hermione, having fallen unconscious when she had told him his father had not liked the room at Thwait Hotel and Resort. He was curled on his side with his right arm bent and tucked beneath his head while his other hand was still interlaced with his mom's.

Kissing his forehead, she slid out of the bed and towards the double doors leading to the hallway. Quietly, she closed the doors behind her and tiptoed down the hallway, relieved to find the Malfoy Family Portraits were still silenced.

Hermione hoped she didn't run into the Malfoys or Blaise in search for the Lucius' office. She assumed the elder's quarters dwelt on the first floor, the problem being she was unsure of how to get there. She had never been on the fourth floor and had only gotten to the third level where Draco's room dwelt. Eventually, she found a staircase after a few minutes of searching.

Once arriving to the main level, she poked her head around the corner and saw that the staircase led her to the dining room which was thankfully vacant of any life, save for a series of portraits high up on the walls bordering the ceiling. This place she remembered and fled into the hallway, passing the Reception Hall and stopped to scratch her head and pensively gnaw on her lip. Her eyes met with portrait occupant closest to her which was of a young man around sixteen who looked remarkably like Draco had fifteen years prior. The boy smirked at her and lazily roamed his eyes up her night-robe clad form and mouthed,_ '__Vous êtes assez.'_

"Do you understand English?"

The young man nodded, his eyes trained on her chest. Hermione folded her arms and smiled forcefully. "Good. Can you help me?"

* * *

"Thank you," Hermione said to the young man. He currently was occupying a portrait of an older gentlemen, and they were both shouting at each other in silence, poking each other in the chest and completely ignoring her.

The boy in the portrait had led her to the double-doors of Lucius' office. After pressing her ear against the wood and praying that it was safe to enter, desperately fearing that Draco's parents would be in there, as well, she chanced it and opened the door enough to squeeze inside the room. Warmth from the lit fireplace washed over her body, and she scanned the area, pleased to find herself alone.

"Who's there?"

Draco's voice washed over her, causing Hermione to shiver equally from anxiety and joy. Bucking up her courage, she emerged from the shadows of the doorway and into the glowing light of the flames. She padded farther into the room, her bare feet making light smacking sounds, and turned her head to the right and looked up to meet his unflinching, steely gaze.

To be continued...


End file.
